New In Town
by AlienaCooper
Summary: Sam and Dean give a girl a ride into town after her car breaks down. Not long later murders start happening, and Sam can't shake the feeling it's linked to the girl. Dean disagrees. Solution? Hunt, and discover. Better summery inside. R&R! No pairings.
1. Chapter 1

Summery: Hataya is a young PhD student at Stamford from England, stuck on the side of the road when Dean and Sam come to the rescue and take her into town to find a garage. Only… within a day, maybe two, of her arrivel people, college students, start dying horribly. Sam can't shake the feeling that it has something to do with Hataya, though Dean thinks otherwise and believes that Sam's paranoia only comes from the fact that Hataya has a psychic ability too. The solution? Keep an eye on Hataya and hunt down what ever is killing students.

No proper pairings. Set in the second season (I'm only up to the third personally so there might be some inconsistencies with the plot), just after 'Simon Said' and just before 'No exit'.

A/N: I'm from England and the last time I was in America I was sixteen, and not really paying attention. So my geography of America might be somewhat eschewed. Please please bear with them! Thank you!

Chapter One:

Hitch Hiking

She never had liked suburbia. Even when she was growing up in one. Admittedly suburbia in London wasn't all nicely cut gardens and tea parties, unlike the boarders of suburbia she was trapped in.

She laughed to herself as she popped the bonnet. An English woman in an America… even that wasn't technically true, but with her accent it felt like it.

She checked the oil, fine. Water- perfect. She had enough petrol to get her to Philadelphia and back to DC again. The battery was full. So why wasn't the blasted thing starting?!

She gave up, slamming the bonnet down hard. She knew enough about cars to pass a high school test… but she was no mechanic. It was probably something to do with the actual cogs and gears of the engine, and it had been about ten years since she had last taken one apart and put it back together.

Well she'd have to find a garage. But she was still out in the middle of no where… and it was probably too far to walk. Next best thing, hitch hike. So she shouldered her rucksack, put the strap of the satchel of her head, locked up the car, pocketed the keys and walked, her thumb out all the way.

But nothing… absolutely nothing. No one stopped, no one even looked at her. After half an hour, she simply gave up and sat on the curb. She was too tired to do anything else. Carrying several kilos of what should be in the back of a car and having been driving all night, tends to do that to a person. She had half a mind to call some form of directory and go to sleep in her home/transportation for the night.

As she mulled this over in her mind and car seemed to have seen her and slowed down to a stop near by.

A man leaned out the window.

"Hey! You need a lift?"

She looked up, and utterly beamed at him. "Yeah!"

"Where to?"

She grabbed her things and jogged over to the car. "Just into town there, I just need to find the nearest garage. My car broke down a mile or so back."

"We're heading that way, hope in, it'll be dark soon anyway."

She glanced up at the sky. He had a point.

"Hop in," he grinned.

"Thanks!"

Pushing her luggage in first, she clambered into the back and sat down, heaving a sigh. The guy revved the engine and took off. She frowned. "Uh… maybe you should get this heap checked as well."

"What! What do you mean heap-"

"I've been telling you that for ages," sighed the person sitting next to him. She guessed it was the driver's brother, maybe cousin. He was tall, slimly built, thick black wavy hair, dark blue eyes and fair skin. Sweet looking boy.

The driver on the other hand had short back and sides light brown hair with greenish hazel eyes, square jaw and thicker build. There was a cocky air about him. It reminded her of her own brother.

"She rattled when you revved her," she continued, "and the clutch is going."

"How can you tell that?" the driver frowned at her in the rear view mirror.

"I know my way around an engine… I'm just no good at making it work again. Oh I'm Hataya by the way, Hataya James."

"Dean," nodded the driver.

"Sam," said his brother.

"Well Dean and Sam, it was very nice of you to give me a lift… I thought America was more friendly… but apparently you guys don't like newbies in the country."

"What makes you say that?" asked Sam.

"Most took one look at me and skidaddled."

Sam cocked an eyebrow, and turned away.

"What?"

"I'm saying nothing."

"What?!" She looked at herself. She was dressed in jeans shorts, a t-shirt stained in engine oil and a loose shirt over that. The clothes she wore revealed a good many tattoos she had sprawled across her skin. She started laughing. "All right all right… fair point… I don't look all that clean cut."

"You're telling me you're an angel?" Dean snorted, "weirdest angel I've seen."

"I'm saying I'm a damn Stamford scholarship kid doing a PhD in anthropology."

Sam's eyes widened as he looked at her.

"You're shittin' me," Dean frowned, "seriously?"

"I am honest as I am… female," she laughed, "don't worry I get that all the time." She looked out the window, yawning. She needed a good night's sleep. Preferably on a bed. It had been a good long while since she had actually rented a room to sleep in. That night she had no choice. "So what are you boys doin' round here? Your accent certainly isn't East Coast."

"Could say the same for you," Sam replied, "British isn't it? English?"

"Yeah, Londoner. Born in NYC and brought up in the UK bad lands. Came back to get to know my Native roots."

"Native American?"

"Half. Hey hey hey- don't avoid the question."

"We're just road tripping to be honest. Needed to get away… taking a year out and all that."

Hataya smirked. "You might be, frat boy, but driver here certainly ain't."

"What makes you say that?" demanded Dean.

She looked out the window. They were entering suburbia. There were nice gardens, children playing on their bikes on the road, mother's calling out to them to come back in and do their home work. Hataya felt a little out of place with her doc martins supported by the bags beneath her ankles, a tattoo of an angel and demon locked in an eternal embrace on her thigh. Then again… she always had done.

"C'mon, I know your type, can't be bothered with the books, you gotta get out and do something. Hell I'd be that type if I wasn't so damn curious… and my parents weren't obsessed." She shrugged. "I know an academic when I meet one, and I know… your type when I meet one." She looked at Sam, her face unreadable. "Now you, Sam… I don't know your type…"

The two looked at each other. Almost nervously.

The young woman shook her head. "Besides the point, you guys are lucky goin' road tripping with family."

"Family?"

"Cousins right? No… brothers?"

"Yeah," Dean smirked, "how could you tell?"

"There's a family resemblance," she yawned and stretched, "I know there's a garage comin' up, but it's out in the middle of middle class rich land… you mind goin' a little further in? I'll never be able to afford that place."

The Sam glanced out his window. They were too busy being surprised by her to notice the garage they were going passed. Dean nodded, and started asking his own questions. Where she was from, her home back in England, little about her own family.

She answered briefly. Almost keeping her own answers in check. She had a two brothers and sister. Her mother was Native American and her father an Australian. She had lived the majority of her life in South London, but in later years moved to the North West. Which fundamentally meant… her parents earned enough money to move to a nicer area.

For them that wasn't all that much information. They knew no names, no details. Just vague outlines. And Dean was suspicious of her. That was enough. There was something about her that seemed to trigger their curiosity. And it wasn't just the accent.

They soon found a better, more affordable, looking place. They offered to wait with her just in case. She frowned, but nodded and thanked them, pulling her bags out of the car and leaving them beside the car.

They watched her talk to the mechanic, explaining her problem.

"Is she…?" began Sam.

"It seems like it… an empath most likely…" nodded his brother, "if she is… then she's in the very early stages of it."

"Might she be a problem?"

"She might turn out like Massouri."

"What?"

"Most real psychics start out as empaths. As their power progresses their empathy can also be used on ghosts and spirits, as well as humans."

"Most… but not all?"

Dean shook his head, "no not all."

Hataya was now gesticulating wildly, getting quite angry. She slammed her fists on the table. The man held up his hands, a sign of truce. He began talking, and Hataya listened. Then she sighed heavily. Nodded and headed back to the boys.

"They can't take a look at her today. It's going to have to be tomorrow," she lifted her bag to her back, "looks like I'm gonna have to find an affordable place to stay. Thanks guys," she shouldered her satchel and made to move.

"Uh hey!" called Sam, Dean looked surprised, "listen, we have to look for a place to stay too… we're kinda borderline broke so… we might as well look together, right?"

Hataya looked at him suspiciously.

"You know he's right," said Dean, "we might end up staying at the same place anyway… so it'll save you unnecessary hassle."

She looked between them. Then shrugged. "Sounds fair enough." She pushed the bags back into the car and jumped in. "Lets go!" she rapped on the hood, "it's getting dark! And I've got an early appointment with an antro professor. And they are assholes in the morning."

The two young men looked at each other and shrugged. The climbed into the car after her and set off. She seemed to be in a significantly less chatty mood than she had been earlier. Instead she sat at the back, almost ramrod straight, and looked out the front window, her eyes almost trained on something in the distance.

They found a motel towards the East of the city, on the boarders. It was a cheap place, with a lot of people simply living there because the daily coast was cheaper than a monthly rent at an normal place.

There were vacancies, but Hataya looked hesitant.

"It'll be fine," Dean said, having caught sight of Hataya's white knuckles, "it'll just be for the night."

"Hummm…" she still looked sceptical. But she followed them in. Sam could understand her hesitation, he didn't much like the look of the place himself. But it was a place to stay. A place to sleep.

At the desk they asked for two rooms. The owner looks between the suspiciously. The young woman sighed.

"We need a single room, for me," she stressed on 'me', "and a double room for them, preferably 2 single beds... considering they are brothers. Ok? Ok…" She rolled her eyes, the owner looked happier.

"All right then miss, now I have two rooms beside each other-"

"We don't care- we need rooms!"

"How long-"

"Are they booked for the foreseeable future?"

"No-"

"Then consider them booked, we'll pay at the end of the stay. All right?"

"Yes miss…" the owner handed over the keys, Hataya tossed a one set to Sam and Dean.

"Later boys," she waved at them, and walked away, to find her room.

The brothers looked at each other and shrugged. From what they could see, she was more or less harmless. She was certainly intelligent, and Dean was certain that she had psychic abilities, but she was fundamentally harmless. Besides, with her staying in the room next to them, if anything fishy happened, they'd be near by.

For Sam there was something more that was bothering him. The girl was as secretive as they were… if not more so. And she was a PhD student. She didn't look much older than he was. Twenty five at the oldest. That was too young to be working on something so advance d. Then there was the way she carried herself… looked at people. Like she could look all the way through them, study each part of them… and still not give a damn about what she found out.

The two went back to the Impala, grabbed their bags and found their way to their room. Inside was clean, if a little musty, with two large single beds, two night stands, a small tv in the corner, a sofa, and a coffee table. Not much else. It was a basic room. Though the walls were very thin. On one side they could hear someone cleaning, on their other side an already familiar voice was having trouble keeping her temper.

"Look, Akondo please- no- hear me out for God's sake!" she was shouting, a moment later her voice dropped and they could hear nothing until; "Well fuck you too asshole! What sort of brother- yeah well, this is my life…" she paused, then continued in a lower tone once again.

The brothers looked at each other and shrugged. Family disputes… never fun.

"Remind me… what are we doing here?" asked Sam, dropping his things at the foot of the bed.

"Stop off," Dean replied, "it's the biggest town until we hit DC, so I figure best place to find a few news papers, maybe something to hunt."

Sam shrugged. Dean was still in a strange mood.

Next door the voice had risen again, she was cursing in a combination of about four different languages. English, a dialect of native american and… strangely… ancient greek and latin. Though Sam wasn't surprised, he'd met a few anthropologists and and anthropology students since starting in Stamford, a lot of them had interests in linguistics too.

What got to him was when the lights flickered and the tv screen that Dean was watching started to fuzz. Now it seemed to be in time with her moods.

"Dean…" he started.

"Not a ghost- just en empath."

"Empaths deal with emotions, not physical reality."

"Weaker ones do. They dunno what they're doing to their power comes off them in electro magnetic waves effecting electrical objects. Once they advance- it stops. So stop worrying."

Sam sat up and stared at his brother. "We have someone with psychic abilities next door… and you're calm about it."

Dean turned around. "What are you so worked up about? Empaths are the mildest psychics out there! Telekinetics, teleporters and people like that, they're harder… even proper psychics like Missouri are harder to deal with. Empaths? They're fine. They're usually the most docile lot. I have yet to meet one that will actually fuck up your brain. Admittedly… I've only met two…" he added in a mutter.

Sam lay back down. Hataya didn't strike him as docile. Just then, with his instinct telling him to watch this girl, he almost wandered why Dean was so unfazed. His instincts were good, having lived the life of a hunter more fully than Sam ever had, he seemed to listen to what his gut told him. This time… he seemed almost turned off the idea.

Next door Hataya's calm broke entirely.

"Well fuck you too Akondo- I'll do this one on my own!"

"What- no Hataya! I'm just telling you to wait that's all! It might not be as bad as you think it is. Let me speak to their counsel- I've got talks with them in the morning all right? Don't do anything hasty."

"I'm not doing anything hasty… I just think this is going to be a very had idea. If we're right it leaves this entire area vulnerable to attack. I don't think they're even aware of what they're doing!"

There was quiet on the other end. "You're taking this too seriously. It's a superstition, A'ya, just a superstition, it's not like this old monster is going to come in and attack the place if-"

"I have to go, Akondo," she growled, "I'll speak to you tomorrow."

"But-"

She hung up.

She and her brothers were twins. And close siblings. Growing up they competed with each other for better grades in class, up till when they reached year twelve, they were turning sixteen. At that point they took their more specialised subjects, and still tried to beat each other in what grades they received. Even then, this competitiveness between the two was friendly, and simply a way of pushing themselves further. As children of a professor and a psychologist the two of them always felt like they had to do better. Always this was what united them. They would argue, make up, fight, patch each other up, confide in each other… for a while their mother worried constantly that the two would always be joined at the hip.

Hataya growled, digging her nails into her palms. So much for closeness and trust! Her brother still thought she was slightly mad believing in what she believed. He had yet to go as far as to say that she was simply believing in the superstitions of the people she was studying.

Slumping onto her bed, she leaned over and grabbed her satchel, pulling out a rumbled packet of cigarettes and a hip flask. She set the hip flask on the table beside her and flipped open the cigarette packet. She had five left. As she looked at the packet… battered… torn… stained with God only knew what… she seemed to feel like it summed up almost perfectly what her life had taken to in recent months. She had only taken up smoking again since she started her PhD because she was getting so stressed out. The evidence of hardship… those were other stories.

She pulled out one of the white sticks, put it between her lips and stood to fish out the lighter from her pocket. She lit up sat down again heavily and pulled the ash tray on the bed side table onto her lap.

Her attention then turned to the hip flask. It was there was brandy in it. She knew that. And she hated the stuff. But in recent months horrible horrible nightmares had been haunting her subconscious. She got the feeling it was something to do with what she was researching and studying. But that was pointless… she wasn't getting much sleep. And she could not be falling asleep behind the wheel.

She growled, in the back of her throat. Her cigarette was almost finished. She stubbed it out, angrily, and went off to the bathroom, to do the every night ritual of going to bed. It was early, but she hadn't slept properly for three nights.

Finally she got into bed. She looked at the flask. Heaved a sigh, and opened it, took one swig put it back down and turned over. The lights were still on, but that was fine. If she woke in the night after a nightmare, she'd rather be able to see everything in the room, not have to make out its shapes. The brandy only served to try and deepen the sleep. It worked to begin with… but now the dreams were getting more and more vivid… as her work became more and more interesting.

Half an hour later, she was sound asleep, awaiting the next day.


	2. Research

Chapter Two:

Research

When the brothers woke the next morning, the electricity seemed to be behaving itself. Either their local empath had left, or she was calmer. As they made their way down to the reception of the motel, the found it was a combination of both, though Hataya was slowly becoming more agitated.

"But I was there yesterday!" she snapped, "how can you not know where it is!"

"Because I don't know everything, missy, I'm just country bumpkin compared to your city class," the receptionist mocked a British accent, Hataya bristled.

Dean intervened. "Good morning, honey," he said, putting his arm around her shoulders, kissing her cheek, she turned her head slowly to glower at him, "I'm sorry about her, she's not very good in the mornings, I'll be honest. We just need to go pick up our car, and she wanted to get it done so we could get going soon. I remember where it is, sweetie, don't worry." He physically turned her around, and frog marched her out the front doors, Sam following quickly after.

"What the hell was that for?!" she demanded, throwing his arm off her.

"What country are we in?" he replied casually, stretching.

"America."

"Now… in this country who sounds ridiculously posh?"

"Yes but-"

"And does it or does it not sound patronising?"

"I wasn't-"

"That doesn't matter. This is a small town, they probably haven't met too many Brits in their time. And trust me, they don't take shit from people in their own town, let alone anywhere else."

"Acent-ist," she grumbled.

"I'm making a point," he smirked, "besides, you looked cute throwing a fit like that, I just had to-"

"Don't push your luck."

Sam grinned. He might not have trusted what she could do. But her as a person seemed fairly interesting. "Hataya," he started, she turned on him, still angry, though he was expecting that, "you should seriously watch your back around here. I'm not saying they're all KKK red necks, but treating people like that simply with your accent and, no offence, your appearance, is a bad idea."

She stared, then conceded. "All right… fine… but I still need to find my way to the damn garage and then to the college here in…" she swore, "an hour? FUCK!"

Again Dean stepped in, his eyes were trained on the lights above them. "We'll give you a lift, just stop shouting profanities… I don't want some chase between you and a zimmer frame."

Ignoring the last half of the comment Hataya replied, "… are you sure?"

He nodded. "Believe me, I am certain."

"I don't want to impose-"

"You won't be," insisted Dean, though Sam was confused as to what his older brother's intentions were, "we need to do some research anyway, so the library is bound to be near the college, we can swing by the garage on the way so you can talk to them about your car. All right?"

There was a pause. "Let me get my bag," she muttered, turning and walking around the hotel, pulling a battered cigarette packet out of her pocket.

The moment she was out of sight and ear shot, Sam rounded her Dean.

"What are you up to?"

"Nothing, being nice to a nice young woman," he winked at Sam.

"This time, that's bull. What are you doing?"

Dean sighed. "I realised something last night. Empaths… they're not… intentionally dangerous. In their first stages of their powers development they can only impose their emotions on electricity, toys, stuff like that. But if they're strong empaths… they tend to… be… a little more dangerous in their first stages. Just now with that woman… Hataya was about to explode every light in the vicinity- did you see how bright the room got?"

Sam had to admit he hadn't noticed. So he shrugged. He'd had very little dealing with psychics. Dean had. Though in what way he wasn't entirely sure. What didn't help, was the fact he had no idea what empaths could do anyway.

She walked back to them not long later, pausing only to stub out the yellow butt of the white stick. She smiled at them brightly and followed them to the car where she clambered back in.

"So why do you need to get to a college, I thought you were a Stamford girl," Sam commented, as Dean fired up the engine.

"It's for my research," she replied easily, stretching out, and unlooping the satchel from around her shoulders, "I've got a few things I want to discuss with the professor over there. Especially about a few of the legends."

"That what your thesis is on?"

"Mmmhmm," she nodded looking out the window, "myths, monsters and legends a few of my fellows have nicknamed it. I guess its the superstitions part in particular, you know… how Native Americans protect their homes and villages against certain creatures, why they do it- even where the legends came from. If I can that is… it's incredibly interesting."

"Sounds it," nodded Dean, though Sam was looking apprehensive.

"Ah, no it doesn't. To most people it's pointless. It's just superstition right? What's the point?" she shrugged, "I dunno…" she paused then leaned forewords, "the weird thing is I find myself getting distracted by some of the western superstitions as well. I found myself going all the way over other Burkinville? Something like… simply because I heard something about the worshipping of an old pagan god there. I think it was Scandinavian… something Norse anyway. The whole city there was almost completely abandoned by the time I got there, so I more or less had free reign of the place. Couldn't find out much… but it was still interesting to look into."

The brothers looked at each other, and forced a smile as Sam veered the conversation to something else, more along the lines of recommendations for where they should go in DC when they went.

This person, who ever she was, seemed to have a taste for the unknown, the paranormal… the supernatural. Though when and if she would face the creatures she was subconsciously seeking... was anyone's guess.

The pulled up outside the garage, waited around for at least half an hour before someone got free, then had to wait another ten minutes for the boss to come out. He listened intently to what Hataya had to say, what she had previously checked on the car, and where it was situated.

"You say you're an amateur yourself?" the mechanic asked, "I hope you haven't touched anything."

She shook her head. "Honest to God, I touched nothing but water, oil and battery. After that I just looked, I wouldn't dare touch an engine out on a motorway. As rusty as she is, she's my car, I'm rather fond of her."

The big built mechanic smiled at her and laughed. "You Brits sure have a nice way of putting things. Where have you left her?"

Again the brothers were surprised. One moment she was direct blunt and rude, the next she was charming and endearing. She seemed to be switching her persona depending on the people she met, of what she needed.

Over an hour later, they were back in the car, with directions of how best to get to the college. Hataya had handed over her keys and left a twenty dollar bill as a deposit.

Sam had taken over driving.

"You're almost better than me," said Dean suddenly.

"Sorry?" she looked at him.

"At getting what you want."

"I know what you meant… I was hoping I was hearing wrong," she smirked, and leaned back against the seats, sitting in the middle, her arms spread across the back, languidly, "almost? Surely I am."

"Listen lady, no one's better than me-"

"Oh really? I believe I have not only been able to get a suburban town mechanic to go and pick up my dead car, but also bring her back to life, for a significantly lower price than what he would normally charge."

"You're certain."

"I am certain. I'm always certain," she grinned, almost evilly, "I'm not always sure how I do it… but I get it done, if I need something, sooner or later it will come to me." She leaned forewords and patted Dean's cheek, patronisingly, "though it does have to be said," she laughed as Dean swatted away her hand, "I have an asset that you don't."

"Yeah but those only work on guys."

Her strangely bluish brown eyes narrowed at him. "My accent works on females as well. You Americans adore the English accent, to you my accent sounds posh! Where I'm from, it's rather… rougher than what is liked by so-called posh people."

"You talk too much," grumbled Dean.

"Yeah? So do you."

Sam was too busy trying not to laugh at his brother and keep his eyes on the road to pay much attention to their antics. It was entertaining, but just then it was necessary to keep the peace.

They pulled up outside the college with fifteen minutes to spare. She jumped out the back and slammed the door shut behind her. She paused, then spun round and leant on the hood.

"Thanks for the ride boys," she said, "listen, if you meet me at the bar about three blocks down from the motel, I'll treat you guys to a drink. My treat. You've saved my sorry arse at least three times now."

"I thought you were broke," frowned Sam.

She shrugged. "Where there's a will there's a way," she winked and turned to leave, looking up at the college. She walked straight into the building as though she deserved to be there. Though she certainly didn't look like it.

"I think…" started Dean, "she's progressed more than she should have without realising what she can do…"

"What?"

"Her persuasiveness. It's an empathic trait. One of the more negative sides… they can influence how some feels to make them more favourable to them."

"Can they impose feelings?"

"Once they realise they're doing it. But it only works if they understand how emotions work with each other- you can't suddenly be angry one minute and happy the next… there has to be a progressive change. At least that's how I understand it."

"Is she a problem?"

"If we're not careful… Besides- with that sort of power… she has to be incredibly susceptible to ghosts and the like."

Sam frowned. "We'll keep an eye on her… then we might have to explain a few things to her."

Dean made a face. "This is not gonna be pretty."

The younger brother started the engine, and moved the car away from the curb to look for a library.

'What neither of them mentioned was the possibility of the demon's intervention… so far she didn't come across as a cold killer… and Sam had no visions yet about any deaths about to occur.

*

The halls weren't all that big. The college reminded her a lot of her first secdonary school… only a little bigger. The rooms were all white walls, plaster and small high windows. There wasn't the charm of some of the older colleges with their red brick, large rooms or court yards. The place seemed somehow… sterile. Even lacking in life. It was strange for her.

She found her way to the anthropology department no problems. It was the smallest office, tucked up near to linguistics. There were students milling around, a few looked surprised to see her wandering around the halls, satchel at her side she might have been a student. Though she seemed a little lost which generally meant that she wasn't. When she asked some of the students for directions, she could see them eyeing her tattoos before replying. She was suddenly grateful she was wearing jeans today, not denim shorts. Though that only really hid her more controversial tattoo.

Finally she arrived at Dr Silverstone's door. Charles Silverstone.

"Come in come in- I don't have all day!"

She slowly pushed the door open into a tiny office. The four walls with any available space was filled to bursting point with books, there were papers piles on the floor, beside boxes and more books. There were notes and research pinned up on map hug at a space between two book shelves, as well as anywhere else that could be of any use. The room itself was dark, with a simple light stuck to the ceiling to give the place light other than the window situated behind the professors head when he sat at the desk. The floor was of a nasty green coloured worn carpet and what could be seen of the walls were the strange off white colour of the rest of the college. What made her feel more comfortable was not only the lack of order, the need to see everything splayed out, or the amount of books… it was the desk itself. It was a regal old, carved solid oak wood desk. It had a deep rich brown colour, with a simple design. The chair behind it was on that could be spun round, but was not manoeuvrable. It too was made of solid oak wood, and was cushioned by and luxurious green leather.

The seats in front of the desk made the entire thing look like a joke. They were simple soft chairs that could be found in any of the tutorial rooms in the college.

Still… she gazed around the room in wander.

"Yes yes yes," Charles Silverstone looked up at her, restlessly. He was a middle aged man, with an expressive face, there were laughter lines about his eyes and mouth, though his forehead was creased with stress. His dark hair was greying at the temples and he was balding at the back. The dark eyes that surveyed her seemed to hid nothing from the person he was looking at, his 'windows to the soul' were clear and honest. He was only a little taller than herself, with the physique of a man who once took great pride in his own body and looked after it, though in recent years he had not put so much effort into looking after it. She liked him.

"I'm Hataya," she started.

"Hataya what?"

"James. I'm Linda Farren's niece."

"You don't look anything like her."

"Niece by marriage."

"Oh… oh! Her husband's niece! Right, I follow I follow. Well then… hummm… you are certainly not what I expected for a… a PhD student."

She laughed and came foreword. "I know. It's a habit, I like contesting what people think is normal."

"I can see that." He came around his desk, frowning at the tattoo on her wrist, "but as an anthropologist I would have expected these tattoos to mean something," he grabbed her wrist and examined it, "this is pointless!"

"I know professor, "this was my first one… unfortunately it happened while on holiday in New York a few years ago… I was not sober…" She looked it. The picture consisted of a rose a couple of inches below the base of a palm, and it's thorny steam wrapped around her wrist with the appearance of the thorns digging into her skin.

"Well that explains it then," he dropped her wrists, "I hope the other's are more intellectual than some teenager's angst."

"Believe me… they are."

He grunted then walked around his desk and sat down, watching her expectantly. She sat down opposite him, unable to help but think how much more comfortable his chair looked.

"Now, miss James-"

"Please call me Hataya?"

"Miss James will do nicely," he stated. Hataya frowned then smirked, she knew this game. Not calling hr by the title she wanted was a show of his own power, this professor seemed to prefer having more status above his students, or those who came to him for help. She settled back. She'd let him have this one. "What is it you wanted to see me about?"

She hesitated, she was concerned more than anything else. But her concerns sounded crazy. Well… to most people in academia they sounded crazy. "It's the artefact you're bringing here… to study."

"What about it? It's been lent to us for a few months by the people. We haven't stolen it."

"No no- I am aware of that. I'm just worried that the men who gave it to you… we blind sighted by the money offered to them. A lot of their families are not happy about the arrangement."

"It was an open discussion."

"You're sure all of them would want to go? Besides, it'll go towards helping the community. How are they supposed to say no? Mr Silverstone-" he frowned at her, the ignoring of his title seemed to agitate him a little, "I'm worried what the removal of the talisman would do for the people. You know as well as I what it represents- we don't seen some nutter to decide to get revenge by staging murders similar to the witch that the talisman represents."

"No one actually believes in that thing anyway."

"But-"

"Miss James, you must understand. We will only be keeping it for about three months, to study it, document it and try to understand it better. Three months, that is all."

"Why so long? Couldn't you carry out the observation in the place of origin?"

"The Smithsonian wishes to display it for a while, on the "magical" objects in a special exhibit."

Her brow creased. "Mr. Silv-"

"I understand, Hataya," he had taken to using her preferred title, a truce was called, "you are from the Cherokee tribe, and I know that your mother has brought you up to respect the lore, and even follow them. But you are also an anthropologist- you must understand the significance of this study, of the connection and bonds the people are making with us white academics. They are trusting us with this prize talisman, and we in turn must prove that we want to understand their culture by looking after it and showing it such respect."

She stared at him. He genuinely believed what he was saying. Utterly believed in every word. Hataya had to give it to him- he was certainly passionate about his job. There was a hesitation.

"Will you allow me to study the talisman with you?" she asked.

"What for?"

"It's for my paper. I'm studying myths and magic for it. Especially amongst Native Americans."

He nodded slowly. "Very well, I'll put you down for it. But it has been very competitive for the students here to observe it too."

"I understand." She stood. "Professor," she recognised the previous olive branch he had extended previously, "I'll be going now. But I thank you very much." She pulled out her wallet and handed him her card. "Call me when the talisman arrives. I'll be seeing you."

"I am certain of that."

She nodded at him stood and walked out of the sterilised building. She was scowling already. This man… he had no idea what he was doing. Though that always seemed to be the way. Best intentions… lead to the worst mistakes.

She stood outside the building for a moment, looking around. The college seemed to mostly have well to do kids going to it. They observed her with mistrust. She smirked to herself. There had been a chance that she was going to turn out the same way… she had spent the last few years of her life before getting into university in a society very similar to this. Though perhaps that was the very reason she hated it.

Instead, she reached into a bag, the battered cigarette case came out. There were three left. She looked at it, then returned it back to the bag and took out her phone instead. She dialled in her brother's number, she couldn't be bothered to look for it in her contacts. It rang three times.

"Hello, Akondo James speaking."

"Hey fuck face!" she beamed, looking up and down the road, the turned left. She was going to find her way back to the garage, see if the mechanics were making any head way with her little home.

"A'ya, do you mind? That's annoying."

"Yeah yeah yeah… fuck face."

"Shup…"

"You spoken to the counsel?"

"Yeah." Pause. "You were right."

"Really now…"

"There were debts that had to be settled, but the majority of people were against it. So… even if money exchanged hands, the talisman has fundamentally been stolen."

"Thank Christ," she exhaled, "will is stand up in court?"

"Yep. There's a problem though."

"What?"

"Legal mumbo jumbo. Even if they decide to fight it, they won't actual get it back for another nine months."

Her eyes widened. "You have to be joking!"

"I'm not… so most people are beginning to just accept it. They're saying they'd rather risk with three months without it, than nine."

Hataya sighed. Well… that was the easy way out blown up in smoke. "Fine…" she shook her head, "thanks Akondo."

"It's fine… just stop going PMSing on me, you don't start till-"

"Shup…"

Her brother laughed at her down the phone.

"I hate you sometimes," the young woman mumbled. "Where you off to now?"

"We're meeting up in Nebraska aren't we?"

"Oh yeah… all right. I'll call you tomorrow or the day after all right? I'm gonna see if I can pull a few strings here, try and lessen the time they keep the talisman."

"All right, look after yourself."

"You too."

She disconnected the call, and looked around. She was miles away. This wasn't fun. And she couldn't exactly hitch a ride. A car drove passed, blaring music.

"Hummmm…" she mused.

Perhaps she could.

*

Sam was on the verge of giving up. For the time being, it looked like DC was in the clear. There was nothing to hunt. Nothing to kill. He stretched upwards. He had even had any visions. Things were quiet in that area of the world. Which was unusual. He was half expecting something big to be happening in the Capital if no where else. Apparently… no such luck.

"Even the murders are getting boring," growled Dean, "I mean look, 'Jilted Lover Gets Revenge', old story…"

"Listen… Dean… I've been thinking… that girl… maybe we should be looking into her past…"

He looked at her. "What? Why?"

"Because… because of what she can do. I mean- how do we know the demon didn't get her family as well?"

"What would be the point? You haven't had any visions, and she doesn't come across and a psycho killer. I mean come on… why can't she just have psychic abilities?"

"How have we been brought up?"

"Yeah but-"

"It's worth looking into. Better to be safe than sorry right? I mean… maybe you're right, maybe she is just a girl who's a bit more in tune with the supernatural… rather than having a demon murder her mother."

Dean scowled. Why was is it that when Sam took that tone, he felt like he was being treated like the younger brother?

"Fine… but I'm gonna love telling you I told you so."

Sam rolled his eyes. He got up to grab one of the computers. Having to look into someone not from the country was going to be difficult. He wasn't even sure if they'd turn anything up. But it was better than not doing anything.

*

"Thanks guys," she grinned as she jumped out of the car, "I'll be seein' ya."

The frat boys in the car whooped and drove off. Hataya put a hand in the air, then made a face, waving them the finger. She hated people like that. But they were damn useful.

"You know," called over one mechanic, walking over to her, "you should learn the bus routes for round here if you're planning on sticking around. You can't always rely on pleasant drivers."

"Ah you know," she looked at him smiling, "you have your transport and… well… you've got mine as well actually."

The mechanic frowned, glancing over his shoulder. She studied him briefly, tall, built, a sort of dark caramel complexion, with black curly hair and wide blue eyes. The blue was what stunned her, but everything else was more or less normal in her books. But he was a good looking guy. Dressed in the uniform overalls, left loose revealing a stained blue t-shirt and an oily cloth in his grasp.

"Oh… the little Austin?"

"Mmmhmm."

"And you're keeping that scrap metal because…?"

"Hey- she's been with me from New Mexico to Vancouver, do not write her off completely." She coughed. "Besides… that's all I can afford."

The guy smirked. "She's finished anyway."

"Fantastic," she beamed, following him back to her car, "won't ask what's wrong with it… I'll end up demanding a demonstration."

Looking up into the shop she could see three other cars having come in to have work done on them, each of them with a different mechanic working on them. The office was in the corner, and the reception was a messy desk just outside it. Hers was right on the end, next to the reception area.

"Hey dad!" called the Mechanic as they reach the car, Hataya absently put her hand on the roof, "DAD!"

"I can hear ya!" complained the mechanic she had spoken to previously. He was a little shorter than his son, with a much fairer complexion, and straight black hair. His blue eyes matched his son's though… that gave him away a lot as well.

"Miss Tats is back," he jabbed his thumb as Hataya as she walked around, frowning at her car, as though looking at its body to see into the engine.

She put her hand in the air. "Heard that."

The head mechanic coughed angrily at his son then walked over to young woman who was still looking confused as to how he car had been fixed. "Sorry about Ollie, he's a little-"

"Pig headed? I have a brother, Sean," she looked up at the older man and smiled, "I am used to people being pig headed."

Sean smiled back at her. "Now, this price that we discussed… will that be card or cash?"

"Cash, of coarse," she followed him into the office to talk money, discuss what had been agree upon and settling anything either of them might have a problem with.

Ollie held back, frowning. His father had never been sweet talked before in his life. And this tattooed British academic shows up, and he was bending over backwards to make it happen. He wasn't sure what she was doing or why… but he didn't like it.

It took ten minutes. There was a momentary disagreement, then it seemed that the girl conceded, and handed over some money. She shook his hand and smiled at Sean quite happily and the two walked out together.

"How long are you in town for anyway?"

"Oh- about a week or so, my research means its hard for me to stay in one place for all that long."

"Well, you got any car trouble in that time drop in on us."

"Sean, if you're not careful, you ain't gonna get rid of me," she looked at the garage smiled, "I love engines, and I'm so damn rusty on how to fix my own I might end up beggin' for some lessons."

Sean laughed and put a hand on her shoulder. "We'll see." He held out the key for the girl to take. "We'll see you round Miss James."

"It's Hataya, and yeah, I'm sure you will," she took the keys, shook his hand, and walked over to the car.

Ollie had taken up residence packing away the tools, near the driver's side of the car. As she passed him, he muttered, "what ever you're doing, I don't like it."

She paused, then turned and unlocked her car. Her voice low. "I dunno what you're talking about."

"You know damn well-"

She opened the door and turned around. "Actually, mate," she hissed, "I don't. So what ever the hell you're accusing me of, spit it out."

Ollie's eyes narrowed at her. "Just keep the hell a way from my garage."

"Make me," she snapped, climbing into her car and starting it up. It started up beautifully. She took one last look at Ollie then backed out and sped off to find somewhere to buy herself some lunch and try and find somewhere to make a little more money.


	3. A Night Out

chapter 3:

A Night Out

"She's American," Dean announced to his brother, "born in New York city… left when she was quite young."

"Well… hang on- didn't she mention something like that when we picked her up?"

The brother's cast their minds back. Same had a point… she had. Along with her Native American heritage. She wasn't a shy at all about her past.

"Hey… hey this is interesting," Dean muttered.

"What is?"

"She has a twin brother."

"So?"

"Twins usually have some form of connection- regardless of whether they're identical twins or not."

"Well…" Sam flipped through her school records, "does say she was bumped up a year when she first started Middle school."

"England has Middle School?"

"No, they call it secondary school. It was something like her first year, they put her up to the second year." He frowned. "The exact same thing happened with her brother… they've had roughly the same grades all the way through their education-" he looked up at Dean, "you might be right about this connection thing."

"Yeah yeah yeah, get onto that later- what about their mother? Still alive?"

"Uh…" Dean clicked back to looking for death certificates in the family. Apart from their mother's younger brother when he was ten and father's mother three years before… "Their mother is a known psychologist, working and lecturing in London, England, even today. Name's… Yepa Farren." He looked at his brother. "She's clean… Sam, she's been living in Europe since she was little… why do you think the yellow-eyed-demon has anything to do wit her?"

"Personally… I don't think he does. I just… want to make sure." He made a face. "Though I think we should talk to her… make sure I'm right. I mean… you remember Ben?"

Dean looked back at the screen. He was browsing through her academic past. He had found a picture of her probably take four years previously, she was sitting on a large green lawn, a body of water in the background and a bridge over it. She was leaning into the picture with a group of her friends, dressed in jeans and a tank top, only two tattoos were visible. He frowned.

"Uh… this is gonna sound weird coming from me… but…" he pointed at the screen, "does that honestly strike you as the picture of a killer?"

Sam looked. He shook his head. "No… definitely not… but we're not sure ok? Just… lets check it out. If we're wrong… we move on- head back to the Road house or something."

Dean frowned, the shook his head. There was no way that Sam was going to give this one up. He had been scared they had found out that there were others like him… other families that had been effected like they had.

"She said to meet for drinks to night, girls can't win against men in a drinking contest… she's got anything to hide- she spill it all after a few drinks."

Sam shrugged. "All right." He looked at the computer screen, then took it off Dean.

"What are you doing?"

"Digging."

"What for?"

"See if she's got a past."

Dean sighed and shrugged. No point in arguing with him. When Sam got an idea, it stuck. "Then… I'm going for a walk." He grabbed his coat. "You want anything?"

Sam just waved at him. He rolled his eyes and walked out. There really was no point.

As Dean stepped out the door, locking it behind him, he saw a little Austin drive up, and park next to the Impala. Next thing he knew Hataya had stepped out of the car, speaking very rapidly on the phone in a language he didn't even recognise. She paused listening as she opened the back and pulled out three paper bags. She balanced them in her arms as she pressed the mobile between her shoulder and her ear.

He debated on whether or not he should go and help her. He didn't want to seem like a stalker, or simply over eager. Then one of the paper bags broke, everything dropped. In her shock she dropped the phone, causing the back to pop off and the battery to fall out. She stared around her as if in shock then yelled a stream of obscenities.

"Hey!" Dean called.

She looked up the wall of doors until her eyes settled on him, she looked miserable.

"What?!" she demanded.

"You want some help or not?"

There was a pause, she looked around her. One paper bag split, her phone broken and the other two bags dropped. She looked almost helpless. She looked back up nodding. "Please?"

He laughed as he walked down to help her.

"You got your car back," he commented, as he reached her, she was scrabbling around for the parts of her phone.

She looked at him and shrugged. "Yeah, guess I have."

Some reason, he didn't like the implication in her tone, but he said nothing as he helped to gather up her buys as she fiddled with her broken cell. He looked at what he was collecting… bottles of milk, cereals, bread, spreads, salami… she looked like she was moving in. She caught the look on his face.

"Yeah, turns out I'm sticking around for about a week or so… maybe more," she made a face, "do not like it here, I'll be honest."

"Why not?"

She paused. "Uh… hummm… just a feeling I get," she smiled brightly, "probably just me being silly, though mum used to always say that I was overly sensitive to the tones of a place. Never understood what she meant until recently." She stood up, having managed to fill out bag and slipped her phone back into her pocket. Dean stood with her.

"I'll carry it up for you," he said, "I needed a walk anyway, I felt like I was suffocating staying inside all day."

She grinned. "Yeah, I definitely know your type." She walked towards the stairs. Dean followed her quickly.

"What? What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's a condition know by some musicians as LSD or LGD."

"A drug and a type of-"

"Lead singer disorder or lead guitarist disorder."

"Oh- what- hey!"

"Ah you know it."

"Of coarse I fuckin' know it-"

"Though to be fair… you're a little more complex than most I've met who suffer from it…"

"Thanks, I think."

"Though you're no harder to figure out."

"Then what have you figured out."

By then they had reached her door, she turned and looked at him, leaning against the wooden thing, blue paint peeling off, the handle rusted. Somehow she didn't seem to suit the surroundings.

"You're a protective big brother, who's grown up believing it is your job to look after your little brother… I'm guessing a parent died when you were younger, probably your mother, there seems to be very little feminine contact with you, but for the odd fuck. And your father has died recently-"

"How do you know that-"

"Uh- you're also carrying a big secret. One you're keeping even from your brother, and it's weighing you down."

She frowned, her longer fingers on her right hand reached out, touching his cheek. She could feel his stubble beneath the rough skin on her finger tips… then her palms. Strangely enough an emotion washed over her… hunger… revenge… confusion… curiosity… and some insanity? She didn't move her hand.

"You're looking for something," now she wasn't speaking clearly, it was somewhat robotic, "you're always looking for something," her eyelids drooped a little, her eyes unfocused, "something dangerous… and usually out of your control…"

"Hataya-"

"Sssshhhh," her forehead creased into a frown, and her eyes focused once more, on his. But the intensity was… terrifying. And yet he could not bring himself to look away. "You need to take a break Dean… once in a while, take a break… go watch a movie, get wasted… get laid! It's been a while."

Dean blinked. He felt strange. As though a weight had been lifted. He felt lighter than he had done in weeks. He looked at her, stunned.

"What did you do?"

She shook her head and moved her hand. "Nothing. I can just figure these things out you know? Some people can just do it. Guess I'm one of them."

"Yeah but so accurately?"

"Mum does it. So can my aunt and my grandmother. Seems to be a trend on my mother's side," she shrugged, "guess we're special." She unlocked her door then held her hand out to take her bag from Dean.

He ignored it and walked into her room.

"Hey! That's rude!" she followed him in.

The room was almost identical to the brothers' next door. Only she had a single bed and more space. Dean put the bag down on the counter as Hataya did the same thing on her bed.

He turned around and looked at her. Now he was certain. She was an empath… with the ability to become a very strong one, but not enough understanding or skill to make it happen fast. She was going to drive herself insane if she wasn't careful. From what Dean had read empaths habitually took on emotions from other people, and could use it against them or turn them to something else. It could be used to help the person, or be used as a form of mind control, but very few empaths had gotten to the point of mind control. This one… this one was stopping at taking on the emotion it seemed and instead of using it at all on the other person, she influenced them to have a calming effect instead.

Just thinking about it hurt his brain.

"Hataya," he said finally, "about that drink."

"Yeah?"

"Still up for it?"

"Uh sure, though I think I can only get maybe two rounds."

He grinned. "Don't worry about it, we've got some spare cash, and I think you're right, I need to relax a bit, get a bit wasted. And you can join us. You seem to be a little stressed at the moment, it'll do you some good."

"I dunno… I mean I can hold my drink but-"

"C'mon… don't be a pussy."

"I am female."

"Chicken then. Hey, practise what you preach right?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Now you just sound like some religious nut job."

He smirked at her. "I'll take that as a yes. We'll meet by the Impala at say… seven pm?"

"It's date!" she winked, "now out! I need a nap."

She put her hands flat on his back and pushed him out of her room with more strength than he had given her credit for. Though he really should have been less surprised… he had read through her wrap sheet. State schools in the South East of a city tends to mean the pupils come out with a little more than simple academic education.

As the door shut behind him, Dean turned to his right and left the building. He still needed that walk, but he felt better. He had a way for he and Sam to find out more about this girl. Though he was getting less and less worried. There was a history of psychic ability in her family, it was less likely that she'd be a result of some yellow-eyed demon's plans. Even as the thought passed through his head, he found himself hoping that he was right. There was something in the girl that he found he could relate too… that was unusual in itself.

Hataya herself sat down on her bed heavily. Her head was aching, quite violently. She frowned, screwing up her eyes, falling sideways onto her bed. She felt like she needed to pass out, but she couldn't… the same as every time it happened she just rode it out. Holding her breath… massaging her forehead… keeping her eyes tightly shut… and not falling prey to the wish to succumb and simply faint.

She wasn't sure how long she lay there, over riding the pain with pure strength of will, but the pain eventually ebbed away. Feeling safer, she sat up slowly. The nausea passed quickly and she heaved a sigh. Looking around the room was in tact… it hadn't been too long ago that in those bouts of pain, she would trash her room without realising trying to get rid of the pain. Apparently she had over come that part of it; even the shopping bag on the end of her bed had been undisturbed.

She got up and moved the bag onto the counter. She had found a fridge underneath the table where the tv was and she proceeded to fill it with her supplies. Soon afterwards she kicked off her shoes and crawled into bed, still fully clothed. She only needed an hour…

She nodded off, and the memories of that pain disappeared entirely.

*

Sam and Dean were waiting by the car, it was past seven and Hataya still hadn't turned up. Dean was worried… he wandered if her empathic abilities had effected her too much. Sam was fidgety too… he was worried about what they might find out. He didn't think she was one of them… but what if she was?

"And you said that she just told you… about you?" he asked again.

"Yes! Christ Sam, how many times do I have to tell you that?"

"And you're sure she didn't look us up?"

"She'd have found some sort of police report. No… this is different, she almost knew about the hunting… she just didn't know what it was exactly. I'm telling you, this girl is an empath, so how she'd be able to help that demon anyway I have no idea."

"Yeah and my dreams are so useful…"

"Don't get sarcastic-"

"Hey guys," Hataya bounded up to them, grinning, "you two fighting? Brothers shouldn't do that you know."

The two brothers looked at her. She had changed, she was now in jeans and three quarter sleeved top, low cut. She looked a little more like a college student… though why missed them entirely.

"You look normal," Dean said curiously.

She looked at her arms, only her rose was showing. She shrugged. "Only way to get some money around here," she replied.

They looked at each other, then back at her. Utterly nonplussed.

She just laughed. "Guys just don't take a girl seriously when she looked like some college freshmen, so I figured, go find a poker game, get me some money. I need a drink tonight. Follow me boys."

She marched past them, and it was all they could do to keep up with her. She wasn't all that tall, reaching about 5 ft 6 at the most, but she had a long stride, like someone used to walking a lot, or having to catch up with people taller than her.

"So how do you know about this place?" asked Dean, "you been here before?"

"Never, thank God, I just spoke to a few locals. Mostly any musician I could find. They know places with cheap beer, pool, decent music and not much attention on the place."

Her answer seemed fair enough so the followed her. As they walked they talked. Hataya spoke very little about her work, which both brothers found strange considering most PhD scholars tended to obsess about it. In order to get some more information, Sam revealed he was a prelaw student at Stamford himself. She was surprised, asking him how long ago that was, then realised who he was and the fact that she had been friends with Jessica. The two had never met, but Hataya distinctly remembered Jessica mentioning her boyfriend Sam.

"Shit happens to the best people," scowled Hataya, she was looking up the street, as Sam listened to her Dean couldn't help but notice her hand bunched into a fist, "she didn't deserve what happened to her…"

"Yeah…" Sam's face fell.

"I may not have known Jess for very long," a smile was on the young woman's face, "but she was kind, generous and fun…" she looked at Sam, "I'm grateful for the memories I have of her. And I'm pretty sure you are as well. Can't mourn forever right?"

Sam pulled a smile, it was forced. Dean prided himself on being the only one who could tell when Sam's smiles were fake, he was pretty good at faking, yet the look on the empath's face said differently.

"You're right," Sam replied.

"Drink," was all Hataya said stopping suddenly, "the talk got depressing, so I have another question for you," she pointed to her right, but we do it in there."

They looked to where she was pointing. It was down some stairs, into a basement. There was very little sound coming through. It didn't look much like a student bar, and Hataya was going to stick out like a sore thumb there. But it looked cheap. And looked like a place where they could collect some money of their own.

She hesitated. "Listen, I'm a bit odd, even for my profession, so… if you guys would prefer somewhere a little less…"

"Nope, looks like our sort of place," grinned Dean, slugging his arm over his brother's shoulder, "let's go!"

She followed them in. Slowly. It was almost as though she was becoming worried, or suspicious of them.

The inside of the bar was claustrophobic. The ceilings were low, almost pushing down on them. Perhaps they had once been white or cream, now they were dirty, covered in stains no one really wanted to question. There were a few tables and chairs about the place, and alcoves against the walls. The people were scattered unevenly about these tables and alcoves, some were people their own age, others were regulars. No one seemed to pay much heed to the no smoking sign hung down the back, even the employees. The smoke was thick and heavy in the air.

The bar was against one wall, the wood of the counter was chipped and scarred and was in need of a polish. The floor were cold flag stones and the lights were light bulbs hanging from the ceiling. The bar was split into two parts, the bar and the pool tables. There were three pool tables in a line, two were occupied. There was a slot machine in one corner, and trivia machine in another. There was a little stage put in the bar area, adjacent to the counter. No one was playing, but an old acoustic guitar was leaning against the stool, looking as though it was waiting for someone to play it.

Hataya smirked. "I like it," she muttered, then looked at the boys, they seemed fairly comfortable as well, "you wanna grab a pool table while I get the first round?"

"Yeah," nodded Sam, Dean had already been distracted by a busty blonde woman sitting near the door, "beers for the both of us, he might be a while."

Hataya glanced at him, then shook her head. "He'll be with you in ten minutes, I can promise you that."

"What are you psychic?"

She just winked at him and walked over to the bar.

The wink may have been in jest, but it certainly did not put Sam at ease. She walked over to the bar and immediately struck up a conversation between herself and the bartender. Sam watched from the pool tables, as he set the balls up. At first the man seemed unsure of what to make of her, she was a proper looking girl in that sort of place… it seemed wrong. But the more she spoke, the more comfortable he seemed to become. Soon he was talking to her just as comfortably. She ordered their drinks, three beers, paid him and walked away. She paused by Dean, giving him his drink and left very quickly.

"Three more minutes," she told Sam as she arrived at the table taking a cue, "you wanna shoot first or…?" She stood at the table, her hand resting on the edge, her beer bottle beside it, her cue loose in her hand on the other side. There was something comforting about the image.

"Ladies first."

"As you wish," she grinned, "two more minutes."

Picked up her cue, and walked around the table she paused at the corner then bent over, her body stretched a little over the table. In one short sharp movement, she had sprawled the balls all over the table, quite effectively.

"Your turn," she winked at her friend.

Sam eyed the table, suddenly feeling a little competitive. He certainly did not want to be shown up by a girl.

As he took his shot, Hataya held up ten fingers, and slowly, second by second put them down. He wasn't sure what she was doing. Until Dean turned up at their table again.

"Hey," he said.

Sam jumped. "What are you doing back so fast?"

"I got bored," he shrugged, "hey can I have in?"

"You just drink your beer, sweetie," Hataya's tone was very patronising, "I think your brother and I are having a little competition."

The night wore on. The conversations jumped from topic to topic music, politics, literature, films, anything… but pasts, family or religion. They played pool, mostly against each other, but every now and then someone would decide to try and take on the little college girl, who was putting away the alcohol like a professional. Usually they'd fail, and she'd win herself some money, but that didn't go for always.

The Winchesters quickly noted that she only seemed to loose when the money at steak was only a little, where as, when it increased, she was more competitive.

Later and later it got, all three of them found themselves getting more and more drunk. So much for trying to grill Hataya for any information about her family that might have helped them.

Finally, coming up to one am, Hataya gave up. She had begun singing a song that no one recognised then suddenly sat down. The giggles came.

"Holy shit!" she tried to hold the giggles back, "I think… I really think… we get back… yes?"

"Yes!" agreed Dean, who had drunk more than either Sam or Hataya. "We go back!"

The two males helped her up from the floor, though Dean seemed to be having a hard time keeping steady, Sam on the other hand was a rock. He looped his brother's arm around his shoulders giving him a crutch, then put his other arm around Hataya's waist. He was shaking his head. He had tried to stay sober, to question her. But the more she talked, the more interesting she got… her taste in books was strange, as well as her taste in films, and she had an opinion on everything. They found themselves getting side tracked.

"I'm fine," she said as they walked out of the bar, "just a little unsteady. Keep an eye on him," she nodded at Dean, who was singing again.

Sam tentatively removed his arm. "You sure?"

"Yah, just make sure I don't walk into the road or something."

"Then… it might be an idea for you to take his other side, keep away from the kerb entirely."

"Good idea…"

She dodged around to Dean's other side and put his hand on his shoulder.

"Ah you were right, Hateeya," the older brother announced, "relax… get pissed… just need to get laid."

"Don't look at me."

"Ah c'mon! Why'd I do that? You scare me."

"I'm a scary girl."

Sam shook his head and intervened before his drunken older brother had a chance to expose them entirely. "So Hataya, I'm curious… about your family I mean."

"What about them?"

"Like… how did your parents meet? It's an odd mix, a native american and an Australian."

"They met in the US, New York actually, dad was doing a paper, mum hadn't finished her own studies. That's about it really. Love at first sight and all that bull crap."

"Where are they now?"

"England. London to be pacific- I mean specific. Dad lectures and mum's a psychologist."

"Strange up bringing."

"Yeah… but I got a twin brother and a little sister and brother, so we kinda balanced each other out. What about you?"

"Me?"

"Yeah, you and Dean are close. Though I guess you have to be."

"Sorry?" He looked at her sharply, her eyes were unfocused, she was staring at the pavement as she walked.

"You don't have any other family do you?" her voice had taken on this strange robotic sound. It was slurred… but precise. "It's just the two of you now…"

"Hataya?"

She jumped and stumbled falling onto the floor and started laughing. "I shouldn't do that when I'm walking."

"Do what?"

"Faze out- it's dangerous."

Sam frowned as Hataya picked herself up wobbling a little.

They arrived back at the hotel, Hataya fumbling with the keys. Sam had no trouble at all, he paused. He was still curious. He could get no where with deciphering this girl. What she could do… how long she had been able to do it for… if she was one of them…

"Hataya, why don't you come in for a coffee or something? Sober up, I don't like the idea of you throwing up in there on your own," he paused, "or making phone calls you regret later."

She looked up at him slowly. He just noticed the colour of her eyes. They were a sort of strange… blue brown colour, ringed in a yellowing gold. They were wide too, so why he had not noticed was beyond him.

"I don't wanna put you out-"

"We've given you a lift maybe three times now, you took us out for drinks, and you paid for most of the rounds and you helped me get alcie here back. You're not putting me out," he shook his head as he pushed Dean in through the door, "are all Brits like this?"

She thought about it, then nodded. "Yeah mostly. Don't wanna cause trouble for anyone else."

He just looked at her as he put Dean onto his bed. She walked in, meekly, her head dropped. Sam walked over to the little counter complete with kettle and instant coffee, tea and sweeteners. The kettle boiled in a matter of minutes, and the coffee was made fairly quickly.

"I don't have any milk," he apologised, bringing it over to where she was seat. He found it a little odd that she had taken to the floor at the foot of the vacant bed, Dean was snoring away happily. Sam smiled as he sat beside her.

"If I wanna sober up, I need it just plain black coffee," she rubbed her eyes, "and I'm sobering up quickly. Only thing I hate about getting drunk."

"Yeah?"

"Not staying drunk."

Sam snorted. He hung his head as Hataya sipped at her coffee then made a face at the heat. "Thanks."

"What for?"

"I guess he needed to hear it from a stranger… but Dean hasn't relaxed like that in a long time… not since…" he trailed off.

"Your dad died?" she asked casually, "he's the big brother its what they do." She tried sipping the coffee again, again it burned, so she blew on it.

He shook his head and turned to face her properly, pushing the mug to one side. "How did you know about that? About my dad?"

"I… hummm… well… mum calls it a gift, but I dunno. I get people, you know? I look at them, talk to them, might be for five minutes, might be five hours, but I get them. I mean the longer I talk, the more I get, but I can get the basics." She frowned and looked at him. "But you… you stump me. I can only get basics from you… and yet I've just spend the last five six hours getting drunk with you."

He paused. Then decided against his better nature. "What can you tell about me?"

"Hmm?" she was sipping at the coffee again.

"When you… Dean told me about earlier, he asked what you got about him… what do you get about me?"

She put the coffee down slowly, her forehead creased. "I just told you… I', not sure about anything I get from you. Nothing's clear."

"What can you tell?"

She bite her lip. "A little brother… independent… you just want to make your own way in the world, without… without… I dunno… but there's something holding you back… I… and… and you do the same as him, as Dean… you look for things… but its different for you its… its…" her voice trailed off, she went quiet her head dropped.

"Hataya?" Sam reached out to take her hands, the moment he touched her, she started speaking again, but this was more to herself than to him, and it had the same robotic qualities as before.

"Anger… anguish… hatred… love… hate… love… curious… dependent… independent… sanity… insanity… fire… lots of… of…" she trailed off again. There was a moment's quiet and she shook her head and looked back at him, she looked suddenly more sober than she had done previously. "Sorry, sorry I dunno where that came from."

Sam took back his hands and smiled, though how real the smile was was certainly questionable. "It's fine, honestly. I shouldn't have asked. I've just never met someone who can read my brother so well. Most people think they can read me so easily."

"Nah… you're harder." She looked around and shook her head. "I'd better get to bed."

"Wha- hey finished your coffee!"

There came a moan from the bed. Then, "why's the ceiling moving…?"

Hataya laughed and pushed the mug over to him. "I think he needs it more than me." She got to her feet and stretched. "I'll see you boys later." She turned and made for the door.

"Good night," called Sam.

The door slammed shut in reply.

He sighed heavily, then turned to his brother handing him the coffee and telling him to drink it quickly.

That night had been fun. But none of the questions had been answered. There was no inclination that the ability to read people was a new thing, it almost seemed as though it was something that was an everyday thing. Did she honestly have no idea what she was capable of? It seemed hard to believe.


	4. And More Bad News

A/N: The 'talisman': it's based on the idea of an 'amulet bag', what is contained is based on what I've found in most cultures across the world, a spell written down, aspects of what the spell is directed towards and so forth. If it's not that related to what the Cherokee tribe do I'm really sorry if I offend anyone!

By the way… any comment on how it's going? At all?

Chapter 4

And More Bad News

The next morning Dean woke with a throbbing head ache, but was feeling generally happy. It had been a while since getting drunk meant feeling good in the morning. He had to remember to thank Hataya for suggesting it. Though he still hoped that Sam had been able to find out enough to conclude that the girl was not a threat.

"Sam!" he called, "Sam!"

He sat up, he was alone. There was a note on the bedside table. He grabbed it and collapsed back onto the pillow.

'Gone to get breakfast. Don't move unless you're gonna throw up. See ya. Sam'

"What no kisses?" he grumbled sarcastically. But he did as he was told. Mostly because Sam returned not two minutes later, armed with provisions.

"Nice to see you lucid," he greeted Dean.

"Yeah yeah yeah… when was the last time we did anything like that?"

Sam shrugged. He threw a package at his brother, it was sandwich, which Dean devoured hungrily.

"So did you find anything?" he asked, practically swallowing the bite whole.

"No. Even if she's had a few, she seems to have her mouth padlocked," he shook his head and unwrapped his own breakfast.

"Dude seriously… you still suspect her?"

"Yes!"

"Why?"

Sam shook his head, concentrating on his sandwich. Then proceeded to explain what had happened the night before, with Hataya. The change in her voice, what she said. Dean was confused.

"That's… vague. She was real specific with me." He shrugged. "Shouldn't be surprised though should I? I'm just your average guy."

"Dean this is serious."

"Why?! She came out with us, got pissed, hustled a few locals and is an empath. It's not illegal!"

"I just want to make sure there's no connection."

The older brother groaned. "All right! We'll have it your way! Besides… we've got enough time… she's sticking around for about a week."

Sam just grunted, returning to his breakfast.

Next door, Hataya was up. Her head was hurting a little, but having taken an aspirin, she was feeling better, and the head ache was ebbing away. She had eaten, showered, dressed. She just had to get her bearings on a map to find her way to the college.

Having done that, she let herself out and quickly went down to the reception.

"Hey!" she said brightly to the man sitting there, privately she was grateful it wasn't the bitch who had been rude to her the day before.

"Hi," came his somewhat apprehensive reply.

"Listen I've taken room three one four, when it's next booking?"

The man checked his ledger. "Three weeks from now."

"Brilliant. All right let's see... today is… Wednesday… can I book it until Monday? I got here Monday night."

"Uh… sure…"

"Fantastic." She left immediately afterwards, to get to her room. She wanted to explore the town a little, if she was there she may as well take a look round. Especially if she was going to have to get up to the Mountains to try and help defend against what the talisman was protecting against. Which was when she got her text.

She pulled the phone from her pocket as she pushed the key into the lock. She scowled. Great… D-day… the talisman had arrived, earlier than expected.

On entering the room, she grabbed her coat, her bag and her keys, then turned and left again, leaving a do-not disturb sign on the door.

"Hey, Hatay-" started a voice from behind her.

"Cantstopnowgottarunseeya!" she called over her shoulder as she positively flew down the stairs and climbed into her austin and pulled out of the car park and left. The boys were left staring at where she had been a moment ago.

"Did you get that?" asked Dean.

"Nope."

"Good… I thought it was the hang over…"

*

Hataya pulled up into the parking lot and made her way over to the anthropology department, one of the lecture halls. She was late, she knew she would be. Around her the students were looking at her surprised, but she ignored them all. Any other day she might have flipped a few off, today she was in too much of a rush. She knew such little lore on the talisman that she was bordering on terrified at what she might find. She just needed to see it… then she could talk to people who knew more. She just had to see it first.

She burst in through the lecture hall, out of breath, causing the people there to look up at her. She grinned at them, cocky almost.

"Sorry I'm late folks, we can start now."

Silverstone rolled his eyes. "This is Hataya James, she's an anthropologist from the UK, she's here doing her thesis on myths and magic."

"Oh the infamous mythology and monster paper?" the voice came from a girl with a Boston accent. Hataya focused on her for a moment, she was dressed in a lab coat, a clip board in hand, glasses over green eyes and auburn hair twisted up into a bun. Her tone irritated Hataya no ends, not that she let on.

"That's the one," Hataya nodded, walking down the steps towards the stage area. The lecture hall was one of the more modern types, seats up and down like a traditional hall, but there was no stage, only a small floor space. "By the way, it's Hataya, I don't like being called miss James."

"I've learned," said Silverstone, "glad you could join us, perhaps you can shed some light, you've researched into the magic in the past I believe."

"Mmmhmm, I already know it's from the Cherokee and related tribes, to keep a monster away from the villages." She arrived at the table. The talisman was laid out respectfully on a white sheet, no one had touched it yet from what she could see. "It should hold three objects in that woven bag," she accepted the white gloves from one of the students with a nod, "though I never found out what they were."

"What, pray, was this monster?" the auburn haired girl spoke again. Hataya was liking her less and less.

"Utlunta. The english translation is Spearfinger."

"Sounds threatening."

"It's not just a name, it's a description. She, fundamentally, is a witch, both her index fingers are like blades. She is a carnivore, feeds on human flesh- the liver. She doesn't die, and there's no real lore on how to kill her. It's been said her heart isn't in her chest, so she can't be killed." She paused. Then smirked. "Though nowadays she's more of a boogie man to make children do as their told."

The students chuckled.

"Now… uh… may I?" she directed the question to Silverstone.

He nodded, "I believe you have more right than the rest of us."

Now she respected him. His curiosity out weighed his morality, but that was hardly a crime.

Leaning over the table, she deftly opened the ancient package, laying it out flat. Inside was a lock of hair, old, brittle, and black as night; a small stone tablet, the shapes were of the Cherokee language, a very old version of their lettering, closer to hieroglyphs than anything else; and finally a small scroll of dyed red hide, leather really, again, old, brittle, the red dye, strangely, was flaking. She nodded, smiling.

"The hair," she pointed to it, "is likely to be from the adawehis- I mean the medicine man at the time, the one who made the talisman in the first place. The hide is from the villagers themselves, it was generally a group effort to be able to bring home food, so it generally represented the whole. And the tablet-"

"The spell what written on it. Stone because stone represented forever. We know this," the girl was becoming impatient.

"Amber come on," snapped a boy, Hataya's focus snapped onto him. He was tall, gangly, with longish blonde hair pulled away from his face, and stubble on his cheeks. "The professor asked her to speak and hasn't interrupted her yet. Not all of us obsess over things like you, let her speak. And I'm fairly sure she knows more about it that you do."

"Very well put, Wes," Silverstone sounded amused, "Hataya, carry on."

"There's not much else really. The talisman is put together over a period of three weeks, on the night of a full moon, when Spearfinger was said to be weakest, they are all put together and blessed by the adawe- medicine man and put amongst the roots of their oldest tree." She paused frowning. "Oh! And the bag itself is woven by the oldest woman and a girl who has just reached puberty and a prayer to each spirit in every stitch. It was a lot of work, but it helped the villagers to feel safe."

"You know a lot I take it."

"I like to learn. But I know very little about the individual parts… I'd rather study them before I speak to an elder."

The professor nodded, then proceeded to explain to the students about the significance of having talismans in a village, regardless of the creature or spirit they were encouraging or trying to rid themselves of. Hataya stood back and listened. Silverstone knew his stuff. That was when she noticed it. On the stone… there was a crack.

She lent forewords and gingerly picked it up. If anyone noticed they paid no heed, clearly believing her to have found something interesting on the stone. Even as she looked closer, she could see all too clearly a large scar running down the centre of the stone. Her eyes widened. The talisman was broken.

*

The boys had very little to do. They had been around town, trying to find some more information on anything. Dean was frustrated with Sam for not just dropping the subject of the strange girl. He wanted to get back to work, doing what he did best. Sitting around doing nothing was not what he did best.

Sam was getting lunch as Dean sat in the car with his sunglasses on. Their police radio was on. Which is when it happened.

The sound of a man talking right next to him jolted Dean to attention.

"…white male, throat's been slit… looks like some cut him open, Jack the ripper style, over." The copper sounded panicky, scared, as though he'd never seen anything like it. Just what you'd expect in a small town.

"Where are you? Over."

Dean scrabbled for a piece of paper and a pen, and noted down the address. Sam arrived back at the car, handing his brother the fast food.

"There's been a murder," Dean stated, putting his meal away, starting up the car.

"So?"

"Someone's been cut up, Jack the Ripper style was what they said."

"Your point?"

"Sam! We've gone into place for less than this, lemme just check it out- it might be nothing! I'm crawling the walls here man!"

Sam held up his hands. "Fine, but it might be nothing."

"Yeah well… it might be something."

*

Hataya stormed out of the lecture hall making her way back to her car, her mind racing. Even if they got their talisman back, that entire side of the village was in trouble. They could easily be wiped out.

She sat in her car and stopped. She breathed in for a moment, the picked up her cell. She dialled in a number and waited.

"Yes?" came a curt tone.

Her great uncle was never very pleasant on the phone. "It's Hataya," she said quickly, "we've got a slight problem."

"Spit it out."

A conversational minimalist her mother used to say.

"It's the talisman," she reached over again and pulled out that battered cigarette packet. Three left. She pulled one out as she spoke, "the stone's broke."

"What?!"

"I know! It probably broke on the way here or something. There's a crack right down the middle."

"This is bad… Hataya, this is really bad."

"I know!" she lit the white stick, getting frustrated, "it's gonna take over a month to make a new one-"

"It's worse than that."

She stopped, then wound down the window as she breathed out the smoke. "Worse how?"

"It's not just a talisman… that's what we told the university folks to shut them up. That was a Goddamned binding."

Her eyes widened. "You're shitting me."

"That thing has been bound at the base of the mountain for centuries… the worst part is it involved it's blood and it's hair."

Well she had been wrong about whose hair it had been… but it explained by the dye was flaking on the hide.

"Shit!" the cogs were working in her head. "I've gotta get back there'll be-"

"No, they're safe. Entirely safe. The warding off talismans are kept back there, there's no way those are being let out… but we caught this one, and with the binding spell only cracked it's going to come after it and try to destroy it completely."

"So it's coming here?"

"It'll probably be already there."

Hataya took another drag from the white stick and blew out slowly. "I'll get it," she said finally, "I just need to find a way to kill it…"

"Not on your own- Ché's in the vicinity, he'll come help you."

"What- uncle!"

"I know you like your independence, but you work well together. He'll be there tomorrow morning, don't you dare go after it on your own."

"Fine! I can look shit up though can't I?"

"Fine. I'll call you soon. Stay safe, Hataya."

"You too uncle."

They hung up. She growled in the back of her throat. This was bad… really bad… she knew it was a bad idea to bring that there. She knew something would happen because of it. And now the college was going to bring murder to the town just because of a small group of people's curiosity. This was not going to be fun.

There came a knock on her window. She leapt out of her skin, banging her head on the ceiling. "Fucker!" She looked round, cigarette between her lips and her hand to her head. Ollie stood just outside looking unimpressed. She growled and wound down the window. "I thought you didn't like me," she snapped.

He grunted. "I was rude… I figured… if I saw you again I should say sorry. So… sorry."

"Accepted, now I don't wanna be rude, but I gotta go."

"Yeah."

He moved away from the car and onto the curb watching her back out of the parking space. At first she ignored him and backed out quickly. But he was still standing there when she straightened up. She paused, looking ahead of her, then looking to the side. She sighed.

"Look, do you want something?"

He hesitated. "Actually…" he winced, "not wanting to be foreword… can I have a lift? My buddy kind of abandoned me. Date with some girl he's sweet on."

She paused. "All right… get in. Just don't complain about the smoke. Jeez American anti and non-smokers are worse than the English ones."

Ollie said nothing, but climbed in, riding shotgun. He seemed to be studying Hataya closely, she ignored it. She wasn't sure why, but this Ollie character really didn't seem to trust her.

*

Dean and Sam arrived at the scene, it was already sectioned off by police tap. It was a park, the area of a little woodland. They approached the officer at the edge, who was looking somewhat edgy.

"Nothing to see here!" as he caught sight of the brothers approaching, his hands in the air.

Dean chuckled, immediately taking control of the situation. "Of coarse not… which is why the tape is up. Where's the DI?"

"What? Why do you wanna-"

He flipped up his badge. "NYPD, but it's technically our time off. What seems to be the problem?"

It seemed that Dean and Sam and read the situation about right. These were small time cops, just used to the everyday problems, students messing around, kids going missing, maybe the odd suicide. But this was completely alien to them… so any outside help, regardless of jurisdiction was likely to have been welcomed.

The officer ushered them in, and told them to wait just inside the gate as he radioed for his superior. The boys did as they were told, and a man in a suit quickly arrived on the scene. He was a plain man, ordinary features, dark hair dark eyes. Not ugly, but easily forgettable. His partner was a slightly built woman, blonde, dark eyes, dressed in smart pants, a blouse and a blazer. Both were looking perplexed and terrified.

"I'm not sure why the NYPD has shown an interest-" began the man.

"Oh no, no no no, we're not trying to butt your investigation," Dean interrupted smoothly, having already eyed up the pretty cop, "to be honest, we've let our curiosity get the better of us. We saw the tap at the entrance with an officer on stand by, it's a usual thing in New York. We just were curious as to what's going on. I mean we'd be happy to help of coarse…"

Sam laughed, it was forced. "We might be taking a family vacation, but half the time it feels like the job always comes first."

The young woman looked surprised. "So you two aren't… I mean your not…"

"Lovers?" asked Dean, he smiled at her, it bordered on suggestive, "no, we're cousins, on our way to a family reunion, figured we'd take a short road trip first."

"Which brought us here," agreed Sam, he put out his hand. "I'm DI Steven Woods, and he's DI Daniel Woods." Dean was already talking to the lady, so Sam took over talking to the man.

The man shook his hand firmly and introduced himself as, "DI Gerald Nix."

"So what exactly happened here? Kidnapping? Mugging? Rape?"

"Murder," sighed the DI tiredly, though there seemed to be an undercurrent of fear in his voice, "horrible affair. Throat's been slit, and then the bastard seemed to perform a horrible autopsy on the body."

Sam made a face. "Wouldn't exact something like that to happen out here."

"Definitely not." Nix ran his hand through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck, he was stressed.

"You mind if we take a look around?" Sam asked tentatively.

Nix looked up sharply.

"Just to help, we don't want in on your investigation Detective inspector, we just want to help. The want for justice doesn't take a vacation."

The older man nodded. "Follow me, Woods."

"Dan," Sam called over to his brother, who looked up immediately, "I'm gonna have a poke around the crime scene, why don't you look over witness reports?"

Dean coughed. "See you back at the station then, Steve."

They spilt up, Dean drove the Impala back to the station, while Sam was lead back into the park, off to one side where the tree life was thicker. There were a few CSI's and coroners about the place, but as expected of a small country town, there weren't too many.

The body was still laying in the middle. A white male, a student by the looks of him. His bag was lying not far from the body. From the makes on his arms it looked as though he fought back against an assailant armed with very sharp knives. His eyes were open wide, his mouth was open a little, in an eternal scream. His neck had been slashed to almost the point where the spine could be seen on the other side. What was left of his clothes were bloody. They seemed to have been slit open with the knife and pushed aside with great haste. His torso towards the right, below his rib cage had been sliced open, expertly. He could understand the Jack the Ripper reference.

"Cause of death is obvious," Nix was speaking, "loss of blood very rapidly from a contusion on the neck… he was dead before he realised he was in pain. It the mutilation we can't get our heads round."

Sam frowned. "Was something taken out? That's where the liver is, if I'm not mistaken."

"The liver was cut out. No other organs were touched, no other organs were even nicked. This has to have been done by a professional… a doctor… or medic… it's the only explanation for it."

"The weapon used?"

At this point the coroner stood. "All I can give you is blade, same thing that sliced his neck open." He shook his head, "but I'm not sure what sort of blade, what it could have come from, nothing like that."

"Did he get anything off the killer?"

The coroner nodded. "Yeah, some skin tissue under the nails, I've sent them off for analysis, but it'll be four or five days before we get the results back."

Sam frowned. Somehow… he didn't like it. There was something strange about the death. It seemed almost ritualistic, slitting the throat then removing an organ. Though why not the heart? Why the liver? Hopefully his brother would turn up something more tangible.

*

Dean found himself sitting in an office, sipping office while the pretty DI Francis Gilks pulled up the witness statements they had already collected. The upside of a smaller community, people were more willing to help when something disastrous like that happened.

"You know," she said, as she walked back to him, flipping through the statements, "these are all consistent but don't really make sense."

'Good… something to work on,' thought Dean as he accepted the piece of paper. "How so?" he asked aloud.

"For starters, the description of the person who fled the scene."

"Oh?"

"Basically, a woman, dressed in a stiff dress, her index fingers unusually long, curved and deadly. I would have thought it was just witnesses feeling somewhat traumatised by seeing a dead body and simply put the knives as a part of the woman's anatomy. But other people, around at the time but having not seen the body said the same thing, even they weren't sure what they saw. And the woman herself, two people saw her closer up… she had blood around her mouth and sort of… cat like eyes."

"As in yellow?" Dean's heart stopped.

"No…" he breathed a sigh of relief, "they were a sort of bluish brown… and the pupils were in slits…" she trailed off and shook her head. "But like I said, I think they may have been projecting the idea of a monster on the woman. She's probably someone who escaped a hospital if you catch my drift."

He nodded, and quickly scanned through the files. Just like she had said. A woman, dark hair, dressed in rags, hands covered in blood with index fingers like blades.

This was definitely their sort of work.

*

The brother met up not long later, to compare notes. There were no weapons found at the scene and even the more normal descriptions of the woman did not have her carrying any weaponry on her. Both were convinced this was their job.

Sam looked worried for a moment, her put his mug of coffee back down slowly.

"What?" asked his brother, sounding annoyed.

He shook his head.

"What?!"

"I… did some more research on Hataya…"

Dean groaned. "WIll you give it a rest! She's clean! She's-"

"Death seems to follow her Dean-"

"Death seems to follow us too."

"She's just a researcher, not a hunter. How do we know this… this murder isn't connected to her. I mean… the woman is described as having mid length black hair, and odd brown eyes. One description said blue brown didn't it?"

"It mentioned no skin markings. The girl is covered."

Sam scowled. "I'm just saying… a psychics in town, murder's start happening and the locals are seeing creatures… doesn't it seem dodgy to you?"

"You're getting obsessive. Just because of what happened with Andy-" Dean cut himself off, "you know what? Fine… we keep an eye on her, like we said we would. We work the case, and keep an eye on her too. All right?"

"All right."

Dean shook his head and returned to his burger. Sometimes Sam irritated the hell out of him.

*

They arrived at the garage. Ollie climbed out of the car and leaned over to thank her, a shout from the garage stopped him. He turned to see his father rushing over to him.

"Hey Sean," Hataya leaned out the window, "long time no see."

"Uh hey," Sean seemed distracted. Hataya frowned. She knew that… yes… that was panic… and anguish… and worry… her heart jumped into her mouth, she could feel the tears well in her eyes.

"I'll uh g-" she started.

"No no, stay there," Ollie smiled at her, "I'll get you a drink for the road, just let me talk to dad."

"You don't have t-"

"I want to."

Again there was something about the insistence in his voice. Was he like her? Or was he just curious… she couldn't tell. He was somewhat difficult to read. Like… Like Sam was.

The two men walked off, Hataya sat in the car and killed her engine. Their words wafted over on the breeze. She had fairly good hearing, came of keeping secrets from her family… but she only caught a few words. "Park… murder… not sure…" that was about it. Ollie's eyes widened, he gripped his dad's shoulders, asking him if he was certain. The man nodded heavily. Ollie's hands flew to his head, his face, unsure of what to do. The horror and anguish washed over her from him… she couldn't read him but all that emotion was over whleming. She got out of the car and almost fell.

"Ollie?" she called, not realising how weak she sounded.

He looked at her, then rushed over to catch her as she pulled herself back to standing. The emotion was stronger still, she should have left, now she couldn't.

"Hey? Hey Tats… what happened-"

She shook her head, putting a hand on his, gripping it tightly looking at him. That feeling of shock and horror ebbed away somewhat and Ollie looked and felt a lot less forceful with his emotions, she could not longer read him as clearly.

"Ollie, what's happened? What's wrong?"

The younger man glanced back at his father, then looked back at her again. He sighed. "You're gonna find out anyway… one of my friends has just died… murdered…" the feelings were coming back, she squeezed his hand, pushing the calm, "his throat was slip then his body mutilated." He swallowed hard and looked up. "I… I have to go and see his family."

Hataya took a deep breath. Fucking brilliant… split throat and mutilated body… was that Utlunta? She thought that the witch killed and fed without leaving a blemish… at the same time… it sounded too close to what her type had down in the past when desperate. But already in town- she wasn't ready yet!

"Do you want a lift?"

He looked unsure.

"I have to go back to the college anyway, and this place is tiny. I'll drop you off, come on."

"Thanks."

"You fixed my car, no thanks is necessary."


	5. The Truth

A/N: The research about this creature is real, it is based on a Cherokee monster, though I have added attributes and edited it a little. Based entirely on the idea that myths are based on truth, the truth would be exactly the same as the myths told. And I hope that any readers I might have enjoy/hate it enough to tell me what they think

Chapter 5

The Truth

It was under an hour later that Hataya made it to the library, she practically ransacked the mythology section of the library, then the anthropology section, specifically the Native Americans, but also early colonial histories and myths. She took up camp at table, taking over the whole thing, and immediately started work.

She wasn't sure how long she spent, searching through legends of anything related to a Spearfinger… how to kill it, or bind it temporarily so as to be able to bind it again. She almost hoped for evidence that it was a type of demon or shape shifter or something.

Hours… hours and hours… nothing. It was a creature… a witch most likely, and witches were damn hard to kill.

She let out a quiet groan of frustration and let her head fall and hit a picture of a witch. She didn't have time for dead ends. She couldn't have any more deaths. She had to kill the blasted thing. She'd already contacted her brother and her cousin, but there was no contact from either of them since.

"Fuck bollocks cunt…" she grumbled, sitting back up.

"That's not very lady like," said a familiar voice from behind her.

She frowned and turned around, the brothers were standing behind her, eyeing her book collection.

"Not a fan of the classics then," Dean had spoken.

"What? This? This is just background research for the talisman brought in today."

"Really…"

"Yeah. I know something about the individual parts of it and what its meant to keep away, I just don't know specifics about Utlunta, the Spearfinger, the creature even… if it exists."

Sam picked up a book. "Witches?" he asked, flipping through it, "this is real occult stuff."

"To be honest, what we know about the occult is only really based on the reality… the uh… superstitious reality of the past I mean," she smiled, though it was somewhat nervous. "Anyway, I've done all I can for today. You guys knock yourselves out. I'll uh… see ya later."

She collected her things and left quickly. Why did she get the feeling that there was more to those two than she could pick up? And why the hell was there something about them that was far too familiar?

As for the brothers themselves, even Dean was suspicious.

"Dean, this is real witches research," Sam said slowly, "not even anthropological stuff."

"This isn't looking good for her, I'll give you that."

"Not looking good? She might even be involved. What if she summoned that thing?"

Dean's brow furrowed. "Uh… hey, what did she say she was looking up?"

"Spearfinger? Seems a bit of a childish name."

"She said it was native american, we'll have a look there. We might find something."

"Maybe I should do that. You tail her. Gimme a call if something happens."

*

Dean followed her all day, keeping out of sight, even in the car he made sure he was at least two vehicles behind her, just in case she noticed. A fugitive was more observant that someone who wasn't expecting to be followed. She had looked so nervous in the library, Dean almost suspected her of doing something. He just couldn't decide what.

Through the day she seemed to keep relatively normal. She stayed in the college, went in to speak to a professor, just the conversation was kept short. She made a phone call as she waited at her car, she seemed to mostly listen. Then drove off… went to a kitchen shop… went to a bakery… went to a book shop… went to the grocers… seemed normal enough. He just couldn't shake the feeling she was up to something.

He got a call as she went to pick herself up some fast food for dinner, the sun was setting and it was nearing eight in the evening.

"Yeah," he barked down the phone.

"I think I've got something. Utlunta, or Spearfinger is a predominately Cherokee legend. She wears a dress of stone… and has index fingers like… an obsidian knife it says here. Said to haunt the Appalachian mountains."

"That's near here isn't it?"

"Yeah, we're at the base. Spearfinger tends to favour being disguised as on old woman, to avoid scrutiny… though I'm not sure if she can disguise herself as anything more. Uh… she is able to kill someone without leaving a mark, and eats liver raw, straight from her victim, usually children and teenagers."

"Owch… she likes her food fresh."

"Dean come on."

"All right all right."

"Also says while she usually doesn't leave a mark, if she is weak enough her bladed fingers come in very handy. I still can't find a way to kill it or stop it, just information about it."

"Still think Hataya's involved?"

"Just keep an open mind. She arrives in this town and that thing shows up here. Aren't you the least bit suspicious?"

"Not particularly," he shook his head, Hataya walked out of the fast food joint, he sat up. "Listen, Sammy, I'll call you back, she's on the move."

"Hey once you know where she is, come get me."

"Yeah. See ya."

He hung up, and pulled out of the car park, following her onto the main street. They drove for half an hour straight, Dean still keeping at least two vehicles behind.

She finally pulled up beside a large building. All the lights were out, it looked locked up. He waited for a few moments, and watched her go up the steps where she knocked on the door. A moment later someone answered. There was a moments talking, then she flashed a card and went in.

Dean stared. What ever she had done… she had done it smoothly. He pulled out of his car park and moved down the street, putting himself at an angle so he could see what the building was. There was a plaque on the door. 'Morgue' it said. His eyes bulged. What the hell was she doing at a morgue?!

He pulled off, finding himself only five minutes away from the library. He called Sam who was already waiting outside.

"So?" asked Sam, slamming the door shut behind him.

"She's at the morgue."

"She's dead?!"

"No! I think she's looking at the dead."

Sam frowned. "Well that counts her out from being involved with the witch… but… why would she be…"

"She said her PhD was on myths… especially on native american mythology… but she looks at others as well…"

"Yeah myths and magic I think it was."

"What if… what if she's stumbled on the truth?"

"How do you mean?"

"I mean… what if she's trying to hunt this Spearfinger down?"

"Shit."

Dean drove back to the morgue. Her car was still there, he parked across the street. Sam had his head in his hands.

"What the hell do we tell her?" he asked his older brother, "she knows her mythology, she probably knows a lot of lore."

"So she can help us."

"Oh so what do we do? Go up to her and say 'hey you know everything that you've been researching is true! Wanna help us kill this one?' Dean come on… don't be so stupid."

"What's so stupid about that? It's the truth isn't it."

"Yeah and what does the truth do to us? Gets us into trouble. We're not telling her."

"Then we just… turn her off the case. Tell her we found her here… and…"

"And that we know what she did and we know she thinks she's helping but she's being paranoid?"

"Yeah."

"All right."

"Shit…"

The two brothers got out of the car and walked across the street as Hataya walked out of the morgue, bidding the man at the door good bye and heading towards her car.

She was shaking her head. This was ridiculous. She needed more time. But no, someone up there didn't like her very much, so she was going to have to deal with this evil witch herself. Why couldn't witches just be those old crones that the fairy stories talked about? They'd be easier to handle.

As she approached her car she spotted two dark figures standing beside it. Her hand reached to the back of her waist band- then she recognised them. Sam and Dean. She was seeing them everywhere. She scowled.

"What the hell are you two doing here?" she asked, pulling the keys from her back pocket.

"Us? We saw you," started Dean, "walking in there like you own the place."

Mentally she cursed them. "You following me or something?"

"No, just curious."

Sam butted in. "Hataya I've looked through your research on the Spearfinger-"

"Fascinating isn't it?"

"And I know this murder replicates the way the Spearfinger kills… but… checking up on the body? You're being a little paranoid aren't you?"

"Who says that's what I'm looking up," she asked.

"You were in a morgue, you're hardly going to be looking up a natural death," pointed out Dean.

Hataya opened her mouth, then closed it again. Something was jogged in her memory. Sam and Dean… Dean and Sam… she had heard those names previously side by side. In fact she'd heard about these two before. The older brother Dean was… and Sam was in college… but- then it hit her. They even looked like him! John Winchester! She hadn't seen him in over a year, she hadn't even heard from him in that time. And now she was meeting his sons? That was a damn coincidence.

But that meant they were hunters… far more professional than she was… this was perfect- this was beyond perfect! Maybe the spirits actually liked her for a change.

"We're not going to report you or anything," Sam was saying, "I know that in your line of work you tend to be-"

"All right! All right, I'm sick of playing dumb. Christ," she rolled her eyes, "I know you're hunters. I know you are. And I know that you know that this Spearfinger thing isn't just some mythology thing."

"Wha- what?" Sam was stunned.

"You can stop playing dumb and all. What person in their right mind goes up to someone and tries to throw them off the scent instead of just reporting them to the authorities or something. I mean seriously. You're hunters. Clear as day. I might be a newbie, but seriously, give me some credit- I know a hunter when I see one."

Sam opened his mouth to disagree but Dean elbowed him and shook his head. There was a time to deny and a time to admit. This girl had sussed them out, and clearly knew much much more than she was letting on.

"All right… we're hunters, what of it?"

"Nothing, I just can't be bothered with another 'it's all in your head' bullshit talk." She made her face though she couldn't help thinking 'especially not from the same damn family.'

"Maybe we should go somewhere a little less… morbid to talk," proposed Sam, feeling suddenly very out of control of the situation. What happened to saving her from her own curiosity?!

*

They arrived back at the motel. It was starting to get dark, Hataya was agitated. She kept glancing up at the moon. The boys looked at each other. That could mean anything… maybe the Spearfinger thing was like a werewolf. They knew so little about it anything was possible.

They went to their room, it was larger than her one bedroom place, and the boys felt safer on their temporary turf. It seemed that the woman herself had no preference.

She glanced around the room, it was untidy, the laptop was left on the table, previous day's clothes were on the floor, there were books littered about the place. Most of the demon lore. She frowned but said nothing and moved to the window and opened the curtain a little. She had to keep an eye on the moon. Though she got the feeling that there was no way she was going to be able to do anything that night.

"About this Spearfinger creature," Sam started, she turned around and regarded him calmly.

"What about it?"

"What's your plan?"

She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. "All right, before I get this lecture… I have been hunting for a year and a half. I know that makes me a newbie, but we all have to start somewhere."

"How did you-"

"Another time," she cut him off, "because of my work I have to chase down stories of the supernatural because it helps my work, which helps tremendously, so I've probably been on more hunts than you think."

Something struck Sam. "So… the talisman you were talking about before, that's why you came here?"

She sighed and lent against the window sill, she nodded. "Yeah. I thought it was only a talisman to keep the bitch at bay. So when it found out it was damaged, I was terrified that even when it got back to the settlement then she was going to get back."

"But it's not… it's… a gimmick?" Dean was confused.

"No… originally I was worried that Utlunta would attack the village in the absence of it, I wanted to get it back for them. Turns out, they have their own talismans, lots of them… this was a binding seal."

Their eyes bulged.

"You mean…" started Sam."

"Yep. That bumpy trip here freed the damn thing. So I need to kill it. It takes three months to bind it again, and I don't have that sort of time." She hesitated. "I know I'm only a beginner compared to the two of you, you clearly know what you're doing… but I'm getting rid of this thing. You're welcome to help me, and you're not stopping me from being involved."

There was a pause. Dean was still processing in his mind that this academic, admittedly a little unconventional, girl was a hunter… in anyway shape or form. She already seemed to know a lot about the creature considering what little information there was on it.

It was Sam who answered.

"We'll help," he said.

"We will?" Dean looked up.

"Coarse, we're in the area, and this is what we do best. Might be interesting to work with a new partner."

She grinned. "Great! First things first- did you managed to find out anything I didn't?"

Sam shook his head. "I doubt it… nothing about how to kill it anyway. Whole load on origins and why people might have believed it in the past."

Hataya's shoulder's slumped. "Great…"

"It's not like we haven't faced the unknown before," pointed out Dean, "just… arm up and use everything we got."

"What did you have in mind…" she asked slowly.

"Anything from iron bullets to… dead man's blood."

"I sincerely doubt dead man's blood is going to do anything. They eat the liver fresh off dead people."

"Fair point… all right- silver bullets, iron bullets, silver blades, any incantations you know… hell even the latin ones we know!"

"Sounds like a plan to me," she glanced out with window. The moon was beginning to rise. She scowled. The problem with knowing when the creature was going to come out to play was not knowing where. The town was small, but there was only three of them, and the park itself was a fairly vague area code.

"My cousin's coming tomorrow," she said finally, "I think it's best to wait then to hunt the bitch down. We've got nothing to go on at the moment, I think it's best to wait till later to make conclusions."

Sam nodded. "I'm not sure I can narrow the field down, we don't even know if silver works on all witches or not."

She sighed, her memories went over past hunts. Three were witches, silver didn't work on a single one of them. Maybe Spearfinger would be different. She could only hope.

Getting to her feet she stretched, "I'll see you boys later then, I'm off for some dinner-" she cut herself, "I can pick you something up if you'd like," she offered.

Dean opened his mouth, but Sam got there first. "No no, we'll be all right. See you tomorrow."

She waved languidly, and walked out.

Dean rounded on his younger brother. "Might be interesting to work with a new partner? C'mon Sammy, you hate working with other people… unless dad approved them."

"I just want to help," he shrugged.

"She knows what she's doing."

"She's new."

"Not all that new."

"Fine! I want to keep an eye on her."

"What?! Sam! This is getting ridiculous!"

"Keep your voice down, jeez…"

Dean lowered his voice to a hiss, "you are getting obsessed!" he snapped, jabbing his finger at his brother on every syllable.

"I'm being cautious… we can't get hold of her birth certificate, we don't know how old she is… she might not be linked to this… this Spearfinger creature, but how do we know she's not like me."

Dean looked up at the ceiling, he was frustrated. "Sometimes… I wander how we're related. Fine… fine… we'll do it your way. But I think she's got this one."

*

Hataya woke with the sound of banging on her door. She leapt out of bed, reaching for her pistol.

"Wake up!" it was Dean, she growled and put it to one side and answered the door, utterly forgetting her pyjamas consisted of a t-shirt.

"What?" she snapped, she wasn't much of a morning person. Even a day person for that matter.

Dean paused, suppressed a grin then remembered his reason for being there. "Can I come in, or you going to leave me out in the cold?"

She squinted up at him, and rolled her eyes. "Damn pervert." She grabbed the front his shirt and pulled him in, and indicated that Sam should follow.

"What seems to be the problem?" asked Hataya, as the boys sat on the sofa, she picked her way around them, picking up the rubbish.

"There was another murder," Sam stated, proceeding to slap the back of Dean's head.

"What?! I like the one on her thigh?"

She looked at them, and glanced at the angel and demon embracing on her left thigh. She grinned. "It's my favourite," she commented, "friend's design." Her mind flicked back to the problem in hand. She growled to herself. "I knew it… same MO?"

"Yeah."

"Where?"

"He was found in hedges of the halls on the college. Throat slit, liver gone, same woman with knives for index fingers running away," Dean supplied.

"That's what I meant by MO," she put the trash in the bin and made her way to her suitcase, pulling out clothes for that day. "Ché should be here in an hour, he knows more than I do. We'll consult him, then we can do some more-" she cut herself off. "SHIT!"

"What?" both turned round to look at her. She was clutched her clothes to her chest, standing ramrod straight.

"The talisman- I mean the binding seal. It must be after it!"

"This is bad?" asked Dean, blankly.

"Of coarse it is, moron! The seal is damaged, but not entirely useless. It's suppressing a lot of the strength of Utlunta, making it weaker. With the binding seal only damaged it has to leave evidence of what it does, it gets rid of it, it can go round killing for years undetected. I knew it was going to get used to the binding and built up strength over a period of time… I thought we had more time… if it's after the seal itself it's gonna try and break it, destroy it entirely. Oh fuck shit bollocks!" She stormed out of the room and into the bathroom locking it after her.

"Someone isn't shy," grinned Dean, as the sound of the shower being turned on filtered through to the main room.

"Shut up. She's working with us, she's not some woman in a bar you can pull."

"Hey why not… strengthen the bonds you know?"

"You need to be diverting the blood flow further up right now. Concentrate."

It took her ten minutes. She walked back out fully dressed in fitted jeans, tank top and shirt, very little make up and an expression to scare a banshee.

She needed to figure out what the hell killed this creature and why. She was already restless, anyone could see that.

"Hataya," started Sam, she looked at him from her dresser, she had pocketed a hip flask and her battered packet of cigarettes, it was the same as three days previously. "Why don't you and Dean go get us some breakfast. We over heard the radio early this morning, we didn't get a chance to eat." He smiled at her, "you seem to me to be the type of person who likes doing things."

Hataya focused on him, trying to read him. She got nothing… she couldn't get anything. It was beginning to frustrate her. She had only met one or two others that it was impossible for her to read. And even then after a couple of days she had been able to read at least one of them. She still couldn't get a decent grip on him.

"All right. What about you?"

"I'm just gonna make a few calls, doze off… if you don't mind?"

"Knock yourself out." She looked at Dean. "You driving or me?"

He hesitated, glancing at Sam, who gave him a meaningful glare. He sighed, "you'd better," he pulled himself to his feet, "early morning starts aren't fun."

She grabbed her car keys. "Later," she called to Sam, who waved in return as Dean followed her out the door. Moments later, Sam could hear an argument ensuing about where to get food from.

Sam laughed to himself. Strong willed people… entertaining and frustrating. He was surrounded by them. He guessed it was the only was hunters survived.

Speaking of which…

Sam grabbed his phone and dialled in the roadhouse number. Ellen picked up the phone after the fifth ring.

"Roadhouse?"

"Ellen, it's Sam."

"Well hey sweetie, everything all right?"

"Everything's fine, on a hunt with a bit of a newbie hunter… I was wandering if you knew anything."

Ellen paused. "You mean about the hunt or the hunter?"

He smirked to himself. Ellen was good. "Both… first the hunter…"

"What's his name?"

"Her name is Hataya James, PhD student of-"

"Stamford, originally went to Cambridge- that one is a genius, Sam, easily rival you."

"So you know her?"

"Coarse I do! She came here after her first hunt, looking for answers. Great girl… just don't under estimate her. She might be new, but she knows her stuff. And she's stronger than she looks."

"The tattoos gave that away." He paused. "Something's bothering me though… she had this… uncanny knack of being able to read people… read us. Do you… do you know if she has some sort of psychic ability?"

There was a pause on the other end. Ellen seemed to weigh up the pros and cons of telling him the truth. There was a blast of static as she blew down the mouth piece. "She's an empath, and a strong one. I don't know where it came from, or how she's got it, but she does. She's good too, read people like an open book, then soothes their fears. Very relaxing."

"I know… Is she dangerous?"

"No more so than you or Dean. She's a bit rough round the edges, but she means well. I'm not even sure she's aware that what she has is it anyway."

Sam felt significantly calmer now. The girl was definitely at least a part time hunter and Ellen seemed to like her. He knew he could trust Ellen's judgement. Now at least he could relax about any malintent the girl might have. Now the problem of providence came into play… what if her empathic gift was a curse from that yellow eyed demon. For now… only time would tell… considering they had not been able to find her birth certificate anywhere.

"Is that all?"

"Well… no not really, what can you tell me about a Spearfinger?"

*

Dean and Hataya arrived not too much after Sam had bid Ellen and Ash good bye. The most either could give him was that the creature was a witch, very little known about it and liked dark damp places. The closest thing it had to a disguise was hiding those curved knives for fingers, otherwise it looked human, usually a middle aged woman with cat like eyes.

Hataya was still cranky, in a general bad mood. She had found a bakery with decent bread and so forth for breakfast while Dean insisted on stopping at a fast food place. So she compromised, Dean could get the fast food stuff, and she'd get the bakery goods, but there was no sharing between them. It was unsurprising really that Sam made a beeline straight for the fresh bread.

"Seriously! Sammy… you have to have been adopted," grumbled Dean, "this is a proper breakfast!"

"That is Maccie-D's," Hataya pointed out, "fat wrapped in paper. Now you might have a half decent metabolism, but not everyone does."

"Everything sounds so posh when you say it," Dean grinned.

Hataya snorted. "Christ! Mine's the shitty end of London as well! I hope to God you don't meet any North Londoners one of these days."

Dean scowled. She could be so scathing just in her tone is she really felt like it. And she seemed to really feel like it.

Sam on the other hand was happy. It was the first time in a while he felt like he was eating well for breakfast.

Though Hataya was not as cold or cruel as she had first appeared. Having done nothing but concluded that the only place that Spearfinger could hid were the sewers and lunch time was approaching, Hataya pulled out a paper bag and held it open for Sam, who pulled out a doughnut. He beamed and quickly devoured it.

Hataya paused, looking between the bag and Dean, who had looked away, trying to be nonchalant. He was failing miserably. She stood walked over to him as he sat on the sofa and she opened the bag for him too. There were two inside.

"I'm not that mean," she muttered, as he helped himself to one, "but sometimes it's just too easy."

"What is?"

She walked away and helped herself, smirking all the while.

"What is?!" He didn't like being left in the dark, "seriously! Wha-"

Someone banged on the door loudly. Simultaneously the three were on their feet, reaching for arms. A voice called, "HATAYA!"

"Ché?" came her reply.

"Who else is it? Archangel Gabriel?"

"Meh," she walked to the door, having grabbed her own doughnut, she pulled it open, "close enough." She beamed at the tall, built man before her. She wrapped her arms round his neck and planted a kiss on his cheek. He returned the hug, walking in and closing the door behind her. When she pulled away from him, her language turned to one neither of the brothers could understand. "Took you long enough!"

"I was in Phillie," he replied, kissing her forehead affectionately, "it's not my fault I decided to drive all night to get here. Bite?"

"Go on."

He took to snack, bit into and sat down on her bed, still ignoring the brothers. "Why are you insisting on helping this town?" he tone immediately became low, menacing.

"Cheveyo, don't be so cruel. They haven't done anything-"

"They broke the seal! We should just let Utlunta break the seal and let her run amuck here- see how they like messing with old magic."

"They weren't messing with it… they were learning about us, you know that."

"They broke it!"

"Calm down."

He growled, his body slackened. Hataya sighed and sat beside him.

"They don't deserve to die, there's already been three attacks here. Two young men, no older than me or Akondo have died. _Killed_!"

He growled again.

"Ché look at me."

He looked at her. She studied him, brown eyes, ebony hair, stubble coming up on his cheeks, his razor sharp cheek bones, the scar that cut through his eyebrow and the other through his lip. He didn't look all that gentle, but as far as she was concerned the outbreak of anger was uncharacteristic of him. He was just worried for her safety. When he found out what she had gotten involved in, he had been furious. When he saw her in action, he relented.

"This is only personal because that seal was ours, and our ancestors risked life and limb to bind the bitch and one road journey out of the village put that all to shits… so we just figure out how to kill it, and be done with it. We move on."

He grunted, and finally looked up at Sam and Dean. Sam was looking on nervously, while Dean had given up feeling uncomfortable and was licking his fingers having finished his snack.

"And who are these idiots?" he spoke English, with a somewhat Californian accent.

"Play nice," warned Hataya, she leaned back on her hands on the bed, "the tall one with dark hair is Sam. The short one is Dean."

"Hey!" complained Dean.

"Boys, this is my cousin Cheveyo- but call him Ché. Oh and Ché?

"Yeah?"

"Please don't fight?"

"I wasn't planning on-"

"You never do, but it always happens. So! Information pooling."


	6. First Move

A/N: I don't like complaining but this is getting a little embaressing/irritating, I get a lot of hits on this story, but no one seems to think much about it to leave a word. Please please guys, I'd love to know what you think of it.

Chapter 6

First Move

Ché seemed to concur with all their findings. His knowledge about killing the witch was no more extensive than theirs, other than there was a suspicion that her biology was different to theirs and her heart was elsewhere from her chest. So trial and error seemed to be their best bet. Arming themselves with guns, knives and holy water for good measure, the four set out at sun set. They had already identified the nearest manhole to the college that lead to the sewers.

"You know, you don't have to come down here," Ché teased Hataya.

"You shut up," she retorted, pulling her car up behind the Impala, "it's Akondo that has issues with getting himself mucky, not me. Don't be mean or I'll leave your ass to Utlunta."

"Mean."

"Grow up."

"Children children," chided Dean, "work is to be done."

"I wouldn't…" muttered Sam, as both Hataya and Ché shot over glares at the shorter brother. Sam shook his head and turned to attention to the sewer cover and bent to pull it off. The four gathered round, Hataya grinned.

"Ladies first," she proclaimed, climbing inside, and letting herself down.

Dean followed, then Sam and finally Ché bringing up the rear.

The sewer, as like any other, was dank, dirty, and it stank. Already Hataya was grateful for her high top boots and scarf wrapped around her nose and mouth. It seemed the males had not thought that far ahead. The complaints were short lived, but they were there.

Switching on their torches, the four set off down the tunnels. No one spoke, their ears strained for the slightest noise, their eyes got used to the gloom for anything out of place.

They walked for maybe ten minutes before Hataya stopped suddenly.

"She's near here," she said suddenly.

"How do you know?" hissed Dean.

She pointed at the walls. There were thin scratch marks all long it. Black hair was caught in some of the pipes along the way.

"I don't know too many women with long nails and thick black hair who likes to hang out in sewers."

Dean made a face behind her back while Ché and Sam tried not to laugh. They carried on walking down, the scratch marks were more and more frequent, though the hair caught lessened. It seemed the creature was capable of learning.

They heard a sound, someone… something was moving about a little further on. Without really thinking about it, Dean pulled Hataya back, pushing her behind him. She was about to object, but kept her mouth shut. There was a time and a place for an equality talk, just then was not one of them. Their paces were faster, the noise seemed stationary. It was as though the creature was just waking up.

Hataya could feel themselves getting closer, the air about her seems to become more feral, chaotic. Then everything seemed to happen at once.

Dean threw out an arm to protect himself, sending them all backwards, Hataya pushed herself forewords to shoot- but only caught a glimpse of the witch running away, hair just keeping up with her. She looked like a young woman, despite the description of her being an old woman, and the dress she wore was stiff, and stuck to her body.

"Shit!" cursed Dean, his arm was bleeding.

That snapped Hataya into action. "Sam, Ché, you head it off, try and send it to the back entrance of the college, we'll be there," snarled Hataya, talking fast.

Neither of the two missed a heart beat, and took off the creature.

As their foot steps faded, Hataya took a look at his arm. It was shallow, but it must have stung.

"Come on… we should have split up earlier," she told him, pulling him along after her. It was only a couple of meters before they reached another exit. This was was right outside the halls.

Dean climbed first, pushing the entrance open, then turned to help Hataya out. She batted him off, closing the manhole again, and simple told him to follow her. He was somewhat impressed, her mind was entirely on the job, even if epiphanies had taken a little time to occur to her. Though why he had not thought of splitting up earlier was beyond him.

It didn't take long to find themselves hiding in the shadows of the back entrance of the college and finally Hataya paid more attention to the cut. The blood flow was already stopping. She muttered a curse, strangely in Latin, and grabbed the holy water.

"It needs to be clean, and blessed water isn't going to do any more harm to it," she told him, removing her cardigan dampening it, and proceeded to pat the cut to clean it.

"You fuss," he complained, wincing.

"I'm allowed. Utlunta hunts by smell when in a weakened state. Blood attracts it."

"Oh yeah…"

"Though you're not her usual type… her history dictates the oldest male she goes after is twenty four… the oldest female is twenty six… and that's only when they can't get any younger." She scowled then gave up. "What happened anyway?"

"She was closer than I thought. She saw me before I saw her, she lunged, swiped, then saw the rest of you and scarpered. She runs fast."

"No wander… humans are her predator as well as prey. She looks vaguely human but she's got more of a mind set of a beast… like a werewolf post transformation." She held a finger to her lips, "shush."

He nodded. They had only separated from Sam and Ché for a short time, but it wouldn't take long for the Spearfinger to turn up. It was after the college anyway.

Minutes later they heard it, the sound of heavy breathing a little way into the distance. The two peered out over the grounds, clear as day there came that creature. But Sam and Ché could not be seen.

Hataya rounded the corner, her gun raised. Her finger tightened on the trigger and- she stopped. Stock still she stopped. Her eyes locked on the witch making a beeline straight for her, faster than humanly possible.

Dean only had time to look and open his mouth before Spearfinger leapt and attacked Hataya.

Hataya herself shrieked and cursed. Her gun and been knocked clear from her hands and she was trying desperately hard to keep her throat from being slashed. The witch herself howled and hissed, scrabbling at Hataya's bare arms and face. The most Hataya could manage was to grab her silver dagger from her pocket, only to have the witch grab the hand and extend it behind her, pushing her worn, blood stained face up close to Hataya's, hissing at her. Hataya could feel the weight of her dress that looks so light, she could barely breath. But the adrenaline kicked in and she fought for her life.

"Dean shoot her!" Hataya screamed, still wrestling with her, the two almost rolling over each other as Hataya fought back and the witch kept the blade away from her.

"I- I can't! I'll get you!" Dean kept trying to line up a decent shot.

"I don't care- just fucking shoot her!"

"I can't!"

"She'll kill me anyway!"

"I'm not gonna-"

"You're father would have!"

That only made Dean freeze. What did she-

There came a scream, a bang and a hiss almost simultaneously. Dean looked again, the Spearfinger had run off, Hataya was sitting up, and hand to her throat, coughing, and Sam and Ché were running to keep up with them. Dean was at her side in a moment, she threw him off.

"Just go after her!" she snapped, "now!"

Dean said nothing, his mind clouded. He was acting on instinct, he followed Sam trying to pick up on the Spearfinger's trail.

Behind them, Ché had dropped to Hataya's side.

"Where did she get you?"

Hataya looked at her cousin, an eyebrow raised. Her lip was bloody, there was a gash from her temple down to her chin, one even have only just missed her eye ball having cut through her eyebrow and landing on her cheek. Criss crossing scratches of varying depth across her arms, chest and stomach, her top was almost in shreds.

"Well she didn't get my lower body," she mumbled, leaning to one side, spitting out a mouthful of blood. She looked at her right hand, there was a deep puncture wound where the Spearfinger had tried to keep her hand down, and failed, and there was a thin line at her throat where it had almost cut down.

"C'mon," he pulled her to her feet, "we'd better get you back."

"We'll wait for them at the cars," she grumbled, bending down with her cousin's help to retrieve her gun, "by the way… I think silver will just about do it."

"How do you know?"

"I managed to get one blow in myself, to her shoulder, fuck… I had a silver bullet as well… just one, but it would have done the trick."

"Doesn't matter," he put her arm around his neck and lifted her, one arm behind her back, the other supporting her legs at her knee.

*

By the time Dean and Sam got back to their cars, Ché and Hataya had been waiting ten minutes, beginning to get worried about the two brothers. She heaved a sigh of relief once she caught sight of them, pulling herself to her feet to greet them. Only to have Sam catch her as the pain from the wounds swamped her mind.

"We'd better get her to a hospital-" he started.

She waved him off, "they're flesh wounds… and Ché's trained. Just… get medical equipment… I'll be fine."

Sam looked at her. She was a little woozy from loss of blood, but with the majority of her wounds already congealing, she was already looking better. He glanced at Dean, who was looking a little worse for wear.

"Dean take her back to the apartment."

"Hers or ours?"

"Hers."

He nodded, and climbed into the Impala as Sam helped her into the back. He crouched beside her. "We chased her, but we couldn't catch her. That wound in her shoulder's slowed her down though, I doubt she'll be able to kill tonight."

"Good…"

"You gave a pretty good fight Hataya, I underestimated you… I'm sorry."

"No big deal, most male hunters do," she shrugged, "apparently I look fairly weak."

Sam smiled and shut the door. He tapped the roof of the car and Dean drove off. He looked at Ché.

"Any idea where a late night chemist is?" Ché asked, climbing into the Austin.

*

Dean was quiet all the way back to the motel, and Hataya was too tired to be able to talk. She kept squeezing the puncture wound on her right wrist, trying to limit the blood flow. She was just grateful it was small and had missed any veins or arteries, otherwise she'd have been since long dead.

They arrived in the parking lot. Dean stepped out of the car slamming the door shut, angrily. Once Hataya had shut her door, and he had locked it, he walked round silently and intercepted her attempt at walking. He picked her up without a word, warning or apology.

"I can walk you know…" she paused, no reaction. "Look I know I'm hurt but I'm not an invalid. I can walk- Dean come on!"

"Shut up," he growled, having reached her door. He let her down gently and snatched her keys from her back pocket opened the door, picked her up again, walked in, kicked the door shut and lay her on the bed.

Without looking at her he walked over to the wardrobe and pulled out the spare sheet, took the kettle, filled it with water and boiled it. He still said nothing. Something was eating at him. She could feel it. She was beginning to regret what she had yelled at him in the heat of the moment.

"Dean I-"

"Shirt."

"What?"

"Off."

"What?!"

"There's not much left of it anyway."

She looked down. He was right, most of her shirt was in rags. She sat up and painfully tried to pull it off her. He grunted and moved to sit beside her. He waved her hands away and ripped what was left, pulling it off. He got up again to where the kettle had boiled, and poured the steaming water into a mug. He proceeded to sit beside her, ripping the sheet quickly and efficiently. He put half to one side and took one strip to the other side. He dipped it in the scolding water, took her right hand and gently, with much restraint.

She winced, but tried not to make a sound. So she tried to talking to him. "I uh… I'm sorry about what I-"

"What did you mean?"

"Huh?"

"About my father… about dad."

"I… Uh… hummm…" she trailed off, all her attitude and cheek seemed to have disappeared.

"What do you know about my father?"

She heaved a sigh. So much for keeping that secret. Adrenaline does stupid things to a person. "John Winchester… hunter for about twenty three years. Since his wife died. After a demon, never told me what type, or what it was after, he just knew it had killed his wife."

"Never told you-"

"I heard about you and Sam… lots about you. He was always really proud of you. For very different reasons."

"How do you know him?"

Hataya looked away as Dean wrapped a dry sheet around the wrist and proceeded to clean the rest of her arm. "It was a while back. I say a while back… it was my second hunt. I'd just learned that most of what I was studying was in fact truth. I met him at Ellen's roadhouse. He was collecting information. I'd heard about a job near by… it was fairly easy… poltergeist, taken over an empty mansion… but kids used it as a rite of passage. The poltergeist seemed to hate children coming into its home so often… so it kept killing a few off. By the time we got there, there had been nine deaths in three years."

"How did you team up?"

"He assumed the same thing you did… I didn't know what I was doing, I'd get scared, I was weak. He was only right about the first part, he seemed stunned I was able to keep up with him. He got rid of the poltergeist, and we headed back to the road house. We talked along the way. I learned a lot from him." She pressed her lips together. "But… I've heard rumours that…" she looked up at him as he wrapped her right arm tightly. "Are they…?"

Dean nodded slowly. "They're true."

"Oh… oh God… John…" she looked away, sadly, "I saw him twice after that. We never hunted together… but I saw him… and…" she shook her head. "I'm so sorry."

"Yeah well…" he moved round to tackle her other arm, "you couldn't have done anything about it."

Hataya bit her lip, then winced again and let it go, it still hurt. Her eyes were lost to the outside, her mind clearly elsewhere. Dean watched her faze out. He somehow doubted it was a good idea for her to do so in her current state. She'd probably lost nearly a pint of blood. Some of the gashes on her stomach were pretty deep, though her didn't dare touch them, he got the feeling stitches might be needed.

"Hataya?"

"Mmm?"

"How did you start… I mean… you're a fairly normal girl. You've only been in this racket for… what… a year and a half?"

"Mmhmm."

"How'd it start?"

"Following up a lead. I'd heard about this… creature. A… a wendigo?"

"Yeah I know 'em."

"I knew it under a different name, basically an ex-human. I passed it off as myth of coarse. So I went to check it out. With a guide of coarse. He got killed, the guide I mean and I got kidnapped by the thing. I made myself a promise to get out of there, so I got out of the knot, clearly it was relying on the fact that most people are not double jointed. I mentally pulled up on all the lore I could on it, and the best I could think of working was fire. So using a lighter and a deodorant can I wasted the thing and got the hell out. Did my research and I've been doing it ever since."

"What about your PhD?"

"I'm still doing it… I just get to do a little good along the way."

Dean smiled. "I can sorta see why dad liked you."

"Yeah? I can see a lot of your dad in you."

*

Sam was bursting to question Ché. Surely if he could… he could dispel all the unsettling feelings of not knowing from his stomach and his mind. They collected what they needed from the chemist, getting very strange looks especially for the needle and thin fish line.

Once back in the Austin, Ché started up the engine and pulled out of the car park. After a moment of quiet he said.

"What was it you wanted to ask me?"

"Yeah uh what? I didn't say anything."

Ché smirked, Sam could see the family resemblance echoing through in that one expression. Seemed to suit the cousins very well. "You've been itching to all evening."

Sam paused. The blurted out, "this is going to sound weird but how old is Hataya?"

He laughed. "Older than you, she's twenty four, twenty five soon unless I've got birthdays confused."

"Really?"

"Yep. A year after me. Why?"

"No reason… it just… helps with another on going hunt we're on."

Ché glanced at Sam out of the corner of his eye. He was staring at his hands on his lap, nothing more. That subject seemed to be of great anxiety to the younger man, so Ché didn't push his luck.

"There's something else bothering you as well isn't there? About what she can do?"

"You know about it?"

"Coarse I do, my family's been in the hunting business for centuries. I'll be honest, I was hoping to keep Hataya out of it, I was furious when I found out she knew." He sighed, gritting his teeth. "Guess I'm hoping she'll get out of it… she doesn't know half the things we know… but she's catching up damn fast. It's like she wants to get herself killed."

"She's curious."

"Curiosity killed the cat." Her pursed his lips together. "So you want to know about her empathic abilities?"

"I'm curious. I've never met an empath before…"

"They aren't common I'll give you that. But in our family… passed down the female line. It's why her mother's a psychologist, and it's why her little sister is the most popular girl in school. Hataya… she's pretty powerful though… she isn't aware of what she's doing. Thinks its just a skill."

"I've gathered."

"We have to keep it that way though… for the time being."

"Why?"

There was a hesitation. "It's a family matter. Maybe I'll explain it to you some other time."

Sam nodded. He could understand that. The conversation was quick, easy, and just as he suspected, all his fears were dispelled. She was too old to be one of them and the ability seemed to be hereditary. All in all… Hataya really was just your average hunter… if that could be considered average.

*

They arrived back in Hataya's flat with Dean cleaning up her face as she complained that it hurt. He simply shushed her and told her not to complain so much. She glared… she so badly wanted to point out that had he shot the damn thing she'd be less inclined to be so angry with him… he was carrying a a magazine full of silver bullets. Though she knew very well she was likely to also have been dead. In the back of her mind, she hoped to God he had forgotten to ask why she had accused his father of not caring, only shooting.

"Hataya?" Ché walked in with the paper bags, "you all right?"

"Yeah, Dean's been cleaning me up. He's clearly had practise."

Dean got up very rapidly. "I've been able to clean her wounds, and bind the ones on her arms, but you might want to have a look at the one on her cheek and across her stomach."

Ché smiled, "all right, you want me to have a look at yours?"

"Me? Nah it'll be fine."

"I'll take a look," smiled Sam, "you deal with her."

The Winchesters headed fore the door, Sam leaving before Dean to open the door. The older brother paused, he glanced back at Hataya and Ché, Hataya was complaining loudly in Cherokee while Ché replied in the same language. He half wandered what on earth she knew, what she had uncovered working on her own. He shook his head and turned and left, dividing into the two families.

Ché found himself having to stitch the gash at her stomach in two places, twenty two stitches in all as well as one cut across her collar bone, eighteen stitches and having to put about seven stitches in the cut at her eyebrow.

"Tomorrow, you do research, we do the leg work."

"But-"

"No. This time you listen to me. I'm not having you die on me, all right? You've got too many stitches on your torso for you to be able to move around safely. I've got this one."

Hataya said nothing. She scowled, the winced and touched her forehead. She looked at the bandaging in her arms, at her wrist and shook her head. For the time being she'd concede. To keep him happy.

"There's some yogurt in the fridge," she said finally, "can… can I have some?"

"Yeah sure."

"We're gonna have to share the bed tonight…"

"Just like when we were kids."

"Only we're a little bigger now."

"Just don't kick me."

"I won't."

He smiled at her and got up to grab her little pot of yogurt and a spoon. He passed it to her, and grabbed his bag searching through it. She ate quietly, thoughtfully. She finished the pot in about a three minutes, in which time Ché had changed and was lighting up a cigarette.

"I thought you only liked cigars," she pointed out.

"You hate the smell… but I need some form of nicotine."

"Open a window." She kicked off her shoes, and pulled off her layers, carefully. Ché didn't move to help her, he knew that would only hurt her pride further. "I'm going to sleep." She crawled under the covers and closed her eyes.

Ché timed it. Twenty minutes later she was out like a light. He turned out the lights, grabbed the the keys and stepped outside. He dialled a number into his cell and spoke very quietly, rapidly, into the speaker, pausing to listen intently. He seemed to relax, nodded and hung up.

He walked back into the room and glanced at his cousin. She had curled up, using only a corner of the blanket she had been given. Just like when they were children. He hesitated before climbing in with her, their backs to each other. It was irrational, but he felt better that way… almost as though both of them were subconsciously watching each others backs even whilst asleep.

He didn't bother turning out the lights, for just the same reasons Hataya left them on. Soon, Ché was fast asleep too.


	7. Plots, Plans, Decisions

A/N: Thank you Leahelisabeth! Haha, Hataya certainly has an interesting past… some will be revealed, I promise… but not all of it ;]

Chapter 7

Plots, Plans, Decisions

When the brothers called in on the cousins the next day they could immediately hear shouting. The obscenities again seemed to span across multiple languages. Finally Dean got the courage to shout enough that they could hear him. There was a lull in the racket, and Ché answered the door.

The brother's walked in almost meekly. Hataya did not seemed to have moved. The majority of her upper body was bandaged, and the cuts on her face were predominantly healed, though the one with stitches still looked painful. And still she sat there dressed very sparsely, her arms crossed and expression that made them literally shiver.

"Yes?" she spat.

"Uh… yes…" Sam started slowly, "we had a call from our local DI friends, Nix and Gilks."

"What did they have to say?" asked Ché, clearly trying to take charge of the situation, battling against Hataya, "another murder?"

"Nope, not after the distraction and damage we did," Dean grinned.

Hataya's eyes flashed towards him, he immediately looked away. Empaths never usually scared him… this one had the ability to terrify him. Though it was likely because she still wasn't aware of what she was capable of so her boundaries seemed… well… boundless. That and if her looks could kill…

"There offices were ransacked. The humanities department, only just starting in the social science. Apparently who ever it was knew exactly what they were looking for and hadn't found it. The offices were a mess but absolutely nothing was taken," supplied Sam, "though the would-be thief was injured, there were blood splatters after all…" he paused, "Hataya I never asked… did you managed to get her?"

She nodded. "I think she heard you running, which meant she slackened enough for me to switch the blade to my left hand and get her in the shoulder. You shot her off me a second later, but it was definitely the silver that effected her- she ran off holding her shoulder, not her side."

"Observant for someone who had just been sliced up," snapped Ché.

"You kinda have to be in this job don't you?" she retorted.

"Oh… kay!" Dean held up his hands, almost in surrender, "now before the family feud breaks out, I suggest we go looking for the witch during the day-"

"You won't find her," sighed Hataya.

"You just saying that because you're not allowed to-" snarled Ché.

"You, matey, are in no position to say what I can and cannot do, so no it is not because," she raised her fingers to signify quotation marks, "'I'm not allowed'… it's because she knows we're after her. She'd have moved camp else where. We go looking today, we'll draw far too much attention to ourselves. No… I say we've been looking at this the wrong way…"

"How so?" asked Sam, taking a seat on the sofa.

"If there is a way to bind it, there is a way to stop it… at least temporarily. If we do that, then we have a better chance of taking her- it down."

"So where do we find that?"

"Books, telephone calls- anything and everything."

"That sounds like your job," Dean announced, standing, "and seeing as Sam has a natural partner for this, I think I'll do some more investigating round town."

"Natural partner!" growled Hataya.

"I mean you… you like to studying things."

"You had better. Ché go with him."

"I want-" he started.

"That wasn't a suggestion."

There was a momentary stand off between the cousins. Both seemed to be eyeing up the other. Weighing up the pros and cons of attacking the other. With words or physically was very hard to tell.

It was Ché who backed off. He grabbed his coat, and left the keys. "Back later," he grumbled, and walked out.

Dean was still standing there looking confused. "I… Yes… what?"

"Dean!" snapped Ché.

"What? I'm coming! Just let me get my coat-" Dean's voice muffled as he shut the door behind him leaving Sam and Hataya alone.

Sam was feeling strangely at ease with the young woman. Now he knew she was not a threat, she was not involved with the yellow-eyed demon and that was was in fact a trusted hunter. At the same time it was a little disconcerting knowing that _that _was the criteria for being trust worthy in his books.

"Where do we start?" he asked, getting up.

"Check my backpack, I should have some notes and at least two books in there based on witches, and one should be on controlling them. Though the other should have some information we might have missed."

"I've got some more next door," commented Sam, as he bent next to the back pack that leaning against the wall nearer the en suite bathroom, reaching in, and pulling out about five books. Like she said two were on witches, though another caught his eye.

He looked up to see Hataya getting up and out of bed, tottering a little. Sam dropped the books and was at her side in a moment, his arm around waist, the other resting on her shoulder. He could not help but notice the word 'Life' etched into the skin; it was simple, plain black, with sort of old fashioned style of writing, very similar to what the 16th century English monks would use for their latin bibles. Sam would not have been surprised if she had been inspired by them.

"You can stay put you know," he told her, almost making her sit down again.

"I'm fine. Just a little… weak. I'll eat something and then I'll be fine."

"She was after your liver, she cut down on your torso pretty deeply."

"I've been shot, electrocuted and and knifed in the past- and that wasn't even involving hunts. Trust me when I say, I am fine."

Those weren't on hunts? Already he was somewhat curious about her past.

She got up again, a little unsteadily and walked over to the fridge. She pulled out a small loaf of bread, butter and a black jar with a yellow lid and label. He thought he saw the word 'vegemite' written on the side, but he wasn't certain.

As she prepared her breakfast, Sam turned back to her suit case and pulled out a change of clothes for her to wear, though he was hoping he wasn't going to have to help her dress. As he watched her move, she seemed to feel just about all right but for the odd twinge.

A thought struck him.

"Hataya?" he started, having laid the clothes on the bed, and taken up residence on the sofa reading through her books.

"Mmm?"

"You don't have to tell me but… last night… Dean said you just- you just froze up. How comes?"

She looked at him. He wasn't looking at her, his attention was more focused on the book in front of him. She glanced at her bed, and smiled on seeing a change of clothes. She might not be able to read him, but she could certainly tell that he was a good person.

She sighed. "It's pathetic really…"

"Can't be that bad," he looked up at her and smiled. This time it was real.

She smiled in return, then bit into her sandwich. She chewed slowly, then swallowed and nodded. "The Spearfinger… I was expecting her to look more animal. She is fundamentally a creature of habit and instincts… but she's clever enough to know what it holding her back from being more powerful. But… but…" she trailed off, "but she looked so human… when she was running at me, she looked terrified. Only two things about her gave her away, those slit pupils and how fast she was. And when she looked at me, she looked so human, with such a human expression… I simply could not move."

"And then?"

"When she leapt at me… she-it snarled. Revealing those horrible ugly fangs. So I stopped feeling sorry for it, and tried to defend myself. Failing, as you can see."

"You must have a hard time going after vampires or werewolves."

"I… I won't go after either. Not purposefully. I've killed two werewolves in my time, but that was entirely in self defence. No… no they look too human. I haven't gotten to the stage of being able to separate myself from the kill yet."

Sam sort of understood that feeling. "It's not so bad… me and Dean… we won't kill people, never have and never will. So I understand your sentiment. Besides, thanks to you, we know that silver works on it."

Hataya nodded thoughtfully, finished off the two slices of bread, and walked over to the bed picking up the clothes and walking into the bathroom. She stopped at the door. "I was thinking… those people… the statements previously… the fact that silver hurts her…" her eyes widened, "Sam, that book on your right- I mean left, the one with the faded blue cover," he picked it up, "it has the Cherokee version of the story in it."

As he flicked through it she walked over and peered over his shoulder. He paused, then frowned. "These are hieroglyphs."

"That's my hand writing," she grumbled, she found the story. "SHAPE SHIFTER!"

"What?"

"Utlunta is a shapeshifter, that's how she used to defeat people in the past, she would trick them, kill someone off eat their liver then take their place."

"So silver will kill it."

"Definitely. We just have to corner her long enough… and figure out where her heart is."

"Phone calls?" she picked up her phone.

"You deal with that, I'll deal with books."

*

Sitting in the Impala as Ché studied a map, Dean was beginning to feel somewhat uncomfortable. From what Sam had told him previously about the man, he was a trust worthy and experienced hunter, probably from a young age like himself. At the same time, he felt incredibly intimidated by someone who even considered the option of fighting with his empath cousin when she could easily turn nasty because of her own inexperience.

"What are you-"

"Sssshh."

"I am driving."

Ché looked up at him, then sighed and closed the map. "I dunno… I…" he shook his head then patted himself down for a something then proceeded to pull out a packet of cigarettes. Dean frowned, they were the same make that Hataya had pulled out previously, but these were from a fresher pack. Clearly Ché was more of a regular smoker than his cousin

"I can get out if you-" started Ché.

Dean shook his head, "just open the window and blow the smoke and ash in the tray."

"Thanks."

Dean paused, then finally, "I know your just worried."

"What?"

"About Hataya. You're close right?"

"Yeah… I just wish she'd listen to me."

"Hey I know the feeling. I've got Sam remember… I've always looked after him, that was my job you know? First and foremost, look after Sammy."

Ché studied Dean closely, analysed his words, his tone. He didn't have the same ability that his cousin had, but if he concentrated hard enough he was able to tell truth from lies. Finally he came to a conclusion. There was a vague similarity between himself and Dean, but that only highlighted the differences between them too.

"You'd die for your brother wouldn't you?"

"I wouldn't think twice."

"I'd do the same. For any of my family, I'd happily put their lives ahead of mine. The problem is… they all know that. We fight each other, but we hunt together, and normally I'm the one who takes charge."

Dean chuckled. "Not so with Hataya?"

"Guess you have to understand the way she grew up…"

"Yeah?"

Ché laughed. "I'll tell you this much, she and Akondo- geniuses, both of 'em. Both skipped a year, both excelled in their own fields. Doesn't mean they had it easy… Hataya looked after herself and her brother, Akondo was too lost in his thoughts to pay much attention to the world. I guess she's used to being in my position…"

Dean nodded heavily. "Look man, it'll be fine. She's new, she's curious and she's strong. She has what it takes to survive this life style. And more besides."

Ché laughed. "About that… Dean, I need you to do me a favour."

*

Sam was still working on the books as Hataya was on the phone.

"So what do you suggest then?" she sighed. She'd spoken to her great uncle, a few cousins, even Ellen and Ash. She had finally reached her aunt, her mother's sister.

"Her hand," her aunt replied simply.

Hataya sighed, and grabbed the battered cigarette case. Two left. She was stressed, she grabbed the penultimate one, putting it between her lips. "And that means?"

"Put that cigarette out."

"I haven't lit it yet."

"Don't even think about it."

"You don't have that sort of control over me," Hataya responded, lighting it.

Her aunt growled. "Grown up nieces… you're very annoying."

"Just like grown up sons? Auntie seriously- what do you mean?"

"I mean you need to get her in her hand. Her hand is where her heart is. It's a good place to hide it if you don't want to be killed that easily. Besides with a stone dress protecting her body, it makes her look like she has her heart somewhere on her torso."

Hataya grinned, she blew out the smoke from her lungs as she moved the white stick from her mouth. "Thanks! Any other pieces of information."

"Yeah- if she can only get her food supply by literally slitting people's throats and cutting out their organs, then she's probably got a mind more like a wounded wolf- so she's terrified of fire. Use that against her."

"You're amazing!"

"I know."

"I'll call you later, tell you how it goes."

"All right. By the way Koda's birthday's coming up-"

"I know I know, I'll get her something pretty, I promise."

"You'll forget."

"I will not! I'll speak to you later!"

"Buh bye."

Hataya hung up exasperated. "Sometimes it is a pain in the arse having so many hunters in the family. You can rely on them for help, but also to try and boss you around and remind you of family gatherings."

"So what did she say?"

Hataya walked over to the window and opened it, sitting on the ledge. "Fire scares it and her heart is in the palm of her hand… though we're not sure which one."

"Great!"

"Now we have to find it."

"Ah…"

Hataya looked out the window. Then frowned. "I'll be back in a moment."

"What- Ha-" She'd already walked out and shut the door behind her, though the smokey smell still stuck around. Sam walked over to the window leading out onto the walk way to see her rushing down the stairs. At the bottom she met with a tall handsome young man, about their age, dressed in jeans, an oil stained t-shirt and wearing a worried expression.

Hataya meanwhile was shocked to see Ollie standing there.

"What are you doing here?" she asked as she reached him, he looked utterly terrified.

"I… I dunno… I… you're new in town… and I just…"

He was shaking like a leaf. Hataya's eyes widened, she took his hands, his emotions barely touched her, she could barely read him, but she could calm him down. "Take a breath, and cool down…"

He did as he was told, a moment later the shakes had gone, and he was calmer. He looked at her. "I… I saw something."

"Saw what?"

"That second murder… I was there."

Her own eyes widened. She glanced around, there was no one around. She pulled him aside, under the stairs, to talk more privately. "Why have you come to me?"

"I don't know… there's something strange about you, I know that much. At first that scared me."

"I remember- you were very rude."

"But it's not… it's not something that should be scary. I don't know what it is. I just think you know something."

"Tell me what you saw."

"A woman… she had dark eyes… but they were slit, like a cats. And… these fingers, like curved knives. She tried to attack me first, but then she… she went after the other guy. I don't even know…"

Hataya sighed. "Ollie… look… you've been grieving for your friend. You've probably imagined-"

"I didn't!"

"Listen to me- think about it. Couldn't you have just imagined this woman to be more animalistic than she was? Because you think she was an animal for what she did? I mean what did you do when she left you?"

"Ran and called the police."

"So you didn't see her kill the other guy."

"No…"

"But you're sure she did."

"Yeah…" he trailed off, he shook his head.

"You haven't been sleeping much either have you."

He shook his head.

"Go home, get some sleep, do some work in the garage and mourn your friend. I'll come in and check on you tomorrow, all right? I expect to see you in the garage even if your not doing much."

He looked at her, then glared. "I know what I saw-"

"What you think you saw."

Ollie sighed. "Fine. I'll see you tomorrow." He turned and left. Hataya bit her lip. She was dying to tell him the truth, but at the same time, she could not bring herself to. In saying that… as Ollie left she got a sense of defiance from him. It made her nervous… she could not have him doing something stupid. But he knew so little, what was the worst he could do? Research? It wouldn't exactly lead him to anywhere conclusive.

She took one last drag from her cigarette and dropped it. It wasn't quite finished, but she was no longer feeling as stressed. No more family to deal with and hopefully no more normal people stumbling along onto the truth.

She returned to join Sam back in her room again. He said nothing of the young man he had seen, instead his attention turned onto lunch. They could devise a plan after they had eaten.

*

By the time Dean and Ché admitted defeat and arrived back at the motel, it was nearing dusk. Sam and Hataya had decided on their coarse of action long before, and were now killing time watching tv, talking and playing card games. Hataya was in the process of beating Sam in a little known game 'shit head', which seemed to be fairly international, though the rules seemed to change a little from place to place, it fundamentally stayed the same.

After Ché knocked on the door, they heard, "COME IN THE DOOR'S OPEN!" from Hataya. They entered the room tentatively and found the pair surrounded by books and paper, the tv on with some inane program on and Hataya speaking softly.

"I see your ace…" she was murmuring, studying her cards, she pushed one of the fan out, "and raise you… a three!" She dropped the three of diamonds on the pile.

"What does three do again?"

"Copies."

"What?!"

"Yep yep yep- pick 'em up!"

Sam grumbled and picked up the small pile. He looked up at Ché and Dean who were watching in a strangely unimpressed manner. "What? We got bored. We made a discovery early on."

"Which was?" asked Ché.

"Spearfingers can be bound temporarily by fire. It can't kill them, but it slows them down a lot," said Hataya in monotone, putting down a seven of clubs.

"So?"

"So we have a plan," pointed out Sam.

"Which is?"

"Get Spearfinger in a circle of petrol- I mean gas," sighed Hataya, "c'mon Sam, hurry up."

"I'm trying."

"It's a case of eny meenie mine-y mo isn't is?" she grinned.

"Will you two take this a bit more seriously!" snapped Ché, they looked up at him. "This thing could kill us."

"I am aware of this," she pointed at her side, "but we got bored, and I'm about to beat him. Besides, we've figured what side she's more likely to go to next, and where to set up. She won't come out till moon rise, so we have hours!"

"What do you mean we?"

Hataya looked up suddenly. Her expression completely blank. The temperature in the room suddenly dropped, literally. Ché shivered, but didn't look away.

"You're not coming."

"I am."

"No way."

"Why not?"

"You're injured!"

"I'm still coming! Even if it means I play bait- I'm coming, I'm helping and you, Cheveyo are in no position whatsoever to try and tell me otherwise. You are neither elder nor are you parent, therefore, I make up my own mind, and you can deal with it."

"Listen you-"

Dean put a hand on his shoulder. "Uh… personally buddy, I'm with you, but there girl's made up her mind. Besides, she's got the three of us there. We saved her life last time, and we can do it again."

Ché looked at Dean. There was a moment's pause, and he recognised the fact that it was likely the older Winchester knew what he was going through. He nodded, and looked at Hataya. "If you come… you're not playing a major-"

"I'm stubborn, not stupid," she snapped, dropped her cards angrily, the lights over head were starting to burn up pretty quickly, "I know what I can and can't do." She stormed out of the flat, pushing her way passed her cousin and Dean.

"Where the hell are you going?" Ché shouted after her.

"To get matches and lighters!"

"Why?"

"Ask Sam!"

She disappeared down the stairs, then reappeared soon after walked across the car park over towards the lobby. Her walk was relatively slow compared what was normal of her, and there was a slight limp on her right side. Ché put it down to her cut over her liver. She was probably compensating for the pain on that side of her body.

He walked back into the room and shut the door sitting down, looking at Sam.

"What?" the younger man asked.

"The plan?"

"Oh right!"

Sam explained that with some research and confirmation of family and family friends on Hataya's behalf they confirmed that Spearfingers could be slowed by fire, considering they were terrified of it. They figured that they had to draw to Spearfinger into an open space and enclose her in a circle of fire thus slowing her down and giving them a clear shot at her head. Failing that, they had to set the witch on first. Either way they needed gasoline, matches and lighters. They had also confirmed that Spearfingers were shapeshifters, so silver could do more than just damage them, silver would kill it.

Ché nodded a long. There was a lot with the plan that could go wrong, and was likely to go wrong, but it was the best they had. Considering they were working with next to no information on a creature that tended to live in the mountains and knew what it was after, they were doing pretty well.

Hataya returned not long later, dropped the gasoline etc. on the floor, grabbed her boots and pulled them on.

"We should set up at some point, but I've been cooped up in this place for so long, I'm going insane. So I propose we go for dinner then we waste the witch. Anyone gonna disagree?"

Judging from the brightening lights over head, it would have been a very bad idea to say anything against her in general.

"Yeah sounds like a great idea-"

"Let's go-"

"Know any good places?"

The men all spoke at the same time, picking up things like keys and jackets. Hataya smiled satisfied, and the lights dimmed. She bent to pick up the gasoline, but Dean got there first.

"I'm not being sexist or anything," he started before she could say anything, "you have stitches we don't need reopening."

"I was going to say you're a real gentleman and thank you… but never mind." She turned and walked out of the room, hurrying the men out with her. He stood stunned, the muttered angrily under his breath.

*

The meal had ended up being quite strained, especially between the cousins. They had ended up just grabbing a take out and sitting in the park to eat, so that Ché could have his pre and post meal smoke without having to put up with people around them complaining. The brother's couldn't help but notice Hataya hadn't even reached for her packet. From what Sam knew, smoking was a social habit, if one smoker lit up, so did another. The only reason he could attribute it to was that she was just in a bad mood with her cousin.

The brother's had tried to keep the peace, cracking jokes and generally being idiots, but when one cousin joined in, the other didn't. Clearly it was a case of two strong personalities clashing.

Finally evening set in, and with sighs of relief they took off to set up the trap for their latest project. Sam had purposefully decide to ride with Hataya while Dean insisted on Ché ride with him.

"We'll still work fine," promised Hataya in the car, tapping her fingers on the while absently.

"Sorry?"

"Me and Ché, even if we're arguing, we're not going to let it get in the way of bringing down the Spearfinger."

"I believe you."

She glanced at him, then nodded. He wasn't lying to her, she could tell that much.

They arrived round the side of the university, parked opposite, waiting for the porter to lock up, at about eight. They heard him whistling as he walked away, swinging his keys around his fingers. They waited to hear his old car choke to life, then putter away from the university, back home.

Hataya allowed herself a moment's musings, wandering if he went home to a wife and children, a home cooked meal, a conversation of someone's day that didn't consist of 'Oh guess what, I gotten beaten up by a witch today!' or something along those lines. She shook her head and focused. Utlunta was getting stronger everyday. Her powers were increasing, but they were nothing compared to what she would be capable of if she destroyed the binding seal entirely.

The moon was rising. It was not yet time for the witch to come out of hiding yet. They set up.

Ché sat Hataya on the grounds, near the bushes they were going to be hiding in. As Sam and Dean poured some gas in a circle around where their new friend was sitting, Ché spoke to Hataya quietly, rapidly, and in Cherokee.

"Now," he pricked her forefinger, the scent would attract the witch, "if you start feeling faint, or worried or anything, I'll take your place. When you see her, run for your fucking life and-"

"I get it, Cheveyo," she snapped, "I had done this before." Her eyes narrowed at him. In a swift defiant movement, she pricked her middle finger, and swiped the bleeding tips down first her right cheek, then her left. The bloody trails were certainly reminiscent of war paint.

Ché hesitated, then stood and left her. He was angry and worried. He didn't want her to be put into such a vulnerable situation, at the same time, this was the only way, and he knew it.

Soon, the Winchester brothers joined him in the bushes. They too were feeling useless and worried, as their new injured small friend sat in a circle of gasoline, waiting to be pounced upon by that ancient evil.

All they could do was wait.


	8. The Execution

Chapter 8

The Execution

No one was really sure how long they waited. An hour maybe. Hataya had stayed seated, then she heard it. The sound of that heavy dress being dragged on the floor as Utlunta ran on all fours, her fangs bared. She see to be making her way towards the building. Hataya scowled, she put her fingers in her mouth and blew, a high pitched whistled issued, and the wind changed. Now the scent of blood from her fingers, cheeks and scar tissue was blown in the Spearfinger's direction.

It turned, Hataya could make out her cat like eyes in the darkness, her deadly finger glinted in the moon light. Hataya was smirking, armed with a silver knife, holding her ground. It seemed the Spearfinger could sense a final confrontation, she walked- stalked towards the young woman, fast but not hurriedly. Hataya could have sworn the witch was a smirking at her.

In the bushes, the males held their position. They didn't dare go anywhere towards Hataya until Utlunta was close. The problem was locating the creatures heart… and they needed to be prepared for it to be in a very awkward place. The hand was vague, which side… which part… was it even the right information?

Hataya felt confident. She was hurt, but protected, and there was nothing that could go wrong with this plan… nothing.

There came a rustle of leaves, and something- someone fell out of the bushes nearer the college building. Someone tall, built, dark hair, caramel skin, in oil stained jeans. Hataya's eyes widened. Utlunta had his scent as well… and falling out of bushes might mean he was hurt enough for the skin to have been broken.

The Spearfinger looked between Ollie and Hataya. Ollie was unarmed… scared… inexperienced. Hataya was armed… prepared… and dangerous. Hataya could have sworn she saw the moment she saw the Spearfinger change her mind. There was a moment's pause, and she turned directions, doubling back towards the mechanic.

"Shit…" she muttered.

Ollie was trying to scrabble to his feet and move, but he was utterly terrified. Hataya didn't think, she just reacted. She let from the circle, towards Utlunta, shouting. She did the only thing she could think of, she used the silver knife to slash through her hand, the blood dripped down her arm, staining her clothes, but the scent to Utlunta would have been over powering.

It stopped in its tracks, and turned, looking back at Hataya. It ran towards her, seemingly as far as it possibly could. She stopped in her tracks, quite suddenly and let the creature come to her, she was ready for it. She had to be!

Behind her, the males had seen her take off, so suddenly the brothers felt their reason jar, they almost couldn't move. Ché appeared to be working on instinct. Moments after Hataya took off, he was after her, catching up to her quickly. He saw her slash her hand, the bright red of her ruby blood positively shone in the dim lighting, and he knew what her plan was. He wasn't about to let her try it. It was suicide.

The Spearfinger was getting closer and closer, faster than any human, but he was closer.

Just as Hataya could feel the heat of that creatures breath on her face, she felt herself knocked side ways, crashing unceremoniously to the floor. She turned in time to see Ché fall back with Utlunta trapping him trying to kill him. But Ché was stronger than his cousin, and he knew the stories better than she.

As he felt her weight come crashing down about his torso, his grandmother's voice flashed through his mind.

"It wasn't fair for the ancestors to call the titmouse a liar, he was only trying to tell them to aim for the heart, not where the heart was. But it was the chickadee who was more specific! He landed on her right hand, and the marksmen knew her weakness. They shot her hand and she died."

The right palm… of coarse! No one suspects the unprotected area of someone's body. Ché couldn't help the smirk, even the animal part of Utlunta could see the confidence in the eyes of the Cherokee man below her. She screeched, her voice impossible high pitched. Her left hand clutched at her neck, the blade already cutting into his throat, she raised her right hand to kill him- that was the mistake.

He raised the gun in his left hand, he could hear Hataya shouting to help him, wanting to pull the witch off him, she was being held back by something. Sam and Dean had come to their senses, their fired a few shots, but they were too afraid that they'd get him. Ché's own mind was at peace. As he felt the stone finger cutting deeper into his neck, he could sense the inevitable.

The right hand began its descent, and he almost saw it in slow motion. His finger squeesed the trigger. The silver bullet was expelled from the pistol and slammed through the witches hand, lodging behind the stone bone that made her index finger so strong. There was a short look of shock on her face, he saw it in slow motion, he also saw the very human look of revenge on her inhuman features. She was already disintegrating, but she would have her right. The right hand carried on moving, it was bloody beyond recognition, but that deadly stone knife of a finger was still intact. He saw it come down, meet with his throat and slice through the soft flesh. She was too weak to kill him instantly, but the damage was done.

It was Hataya's scream that knocked some normality back into the situation. Ché could feel the blood leaving his body, and quickly, things were getting blurry… this was it. And he wasn't even all that afraid.

Hataya had seen Ché shoot the witch's hand, the blood had been far too much for that of a normal hand, clearly that was where the heart was hidden. She had felt so much better until, she saw the slowly disintegrating body of the Spearfinger still moving, purposefully towards Ché's neck. She tried moving towards the, but she was too slow. The Spearfinger disintegrated entirely, and all she was left with was Ché choking on his own blood, coughing and spluttering. The scream that ripped from her lungs was vicious, blood curdling and raw.

She threw herself beside Ché's body, propping him up against her body, ripping at her clothes to try and stop the blood.

"Ché? Ché! Please don't go, stay with me Ché, please!" her language quickly disintegrated into multiple languages that neither Winchester brother could make out.

Sam watched on, not knowing what to do. He knew as well as Dean that Ché was dead. As good as. There was no saving him now. And watching Hataya trying to save him, sobbing her lungs out almost physically hurt him.

Dean caught sight of Ollie who had come forewords, his mouth hanging open. He snarled, stormed towards him and grabbed the taller man's clothes, pulling him closer to his face.

"What the hell do you think you were playing at?!" he demanded off the younger man.

"I… I just wanted evidence that I wasn't make it up-"

"Oh so it's a smart idea to trying and fucking risk your life to get a damn picture, huh?!"

"I didn't think that-"

"You didn't think at all! We had a plan! Thanks to you that girl's lost her cousin! You pleased with yourself?!"

"Dean," Sam put a hand on his brother's shoulder.

"This moron-"

"Dean! Hataya's… she's…"

Dean released the mechanic and looked at Hataya, she was still talking to Ché. The man was strong, he could see him still blinking, his lips moving gently, but they could not hear any sound… they couldn't even be sure that he was actually replying. It appeared that Hataya had settled into Cherokee. A language they both seemed to be most comfortable.

"Ché… I'm sorry… please don't leave me…" she begged, "I've… I've called the ambulance… stay… c'mon- you can do it. You're the strongest man I know. Ché?"

His lips moved, but no sound came. He seemed to be smiling at her. But as she tried to lean in to hear him better… she felt his body go limp in her arms. She shook him, unwilling to move her hands from his neck, hoping she had managed to do enough to save him.

"Ché? Ché?! Cheveyo!" no answer. No movement. Nothing. Covered in her cousins blood, her head was thrown back and she she screamed again. It was animal, basic and instinctual. It was as though some primal instinct of loss, fear and anger had possessed her. It was terrifying… and it was heart wrenching.

Sam made the first move, leaving Dean to deal with Ollie. He crouched beside her, putting a hand on her shoulder. "We should go… let them find his body and-"

"No," she replied, still holding Ché's lifeless being close to her, "I can leave him alone here."

"But-"

"I'm his cousin… I can make up a story for why we were here and what's happened. You get out of here… I'm going to need someone to pick me up from the police station later."

"Just let him go at least."

Hataya shook her head, her face buried in her cousins lifeless chest, as though hoping to find a heart beat. "I can't… I can't… just get out of here." She paused, then pulled her keys from her back pocket one handed, and handed it to him. "They'll be here soon."

Sam sighed, touching her head, but left. People dealt with death in different ways.

On the other side Dean was talking to Ollie.

"The best thing you can do right now is leave. Go home, go to bed, and try and forget what happened here."

"But I-"

"We will come and see you tomorrow," Dean snarled at him. It was all this jackasses fault that Ché was dead. He couldn't feel sorry that the young man had witnessed what was really out there. He almost felt it was the right punishment for having interfered with their plan to get the bitch. Instead a good hunter- a good man had to loose his life. At least this snivelling idiot would be jumping at shadows for the rest of his life.

"All… all right," agreed Ollie. He hesitated for a moment, then practically ran away from the scene. Dean sighed and looked over at Sam who was walking over.

"What's the plan?" asked Dean.

"Hataya called the cops, she didn't mean to, she was hoping to save Ché. I guess… anyway, we're to head back to the hotel, we'll pick her up from the police station when she calls us. She'll have to give a statement, so she'll be a couple of hours."

"Right."

The two glanced back at her, neither made a move to go near her. She was still sobbing, holding onto him closely. They turned, and left quickly. Sam took her car, and Dean took his.

She'd have a plan.

Hataya wasn't sure how long she sat there, clutching onto Ché, hoping to what ever deity would listen to her that he would open his eyes and tell her it was a bad joke… or even that he had just passed out from shock… anything but truly dead. She cried hard, her throat felt raw, her cheeks were stained with blood, tears and make up. Her own clothes were soaked in blood, parts were her own, but it was mostly his. Still she didn't let go, she couldn't bring herself to.

Even when the paramedics arrived, she refused to let him, kept trying to call his name, to wake him up, begging him, insulting him… anything! Finally the police arrived, Francis Gilks and Gerald Nix. It was Gilks that took to talking to her. She reasoned that if there was anything to be done, then the medics should have a look, and that Hataya had done everything she could.

Inconsolable, Hataya let him go, but not without closing his eyes and kissing his forehead. Even as Gilks led her away, Hataya's shoulder were still shaking with sobs, but tears were no longer coming. She was trying to calm down, taking deep breaths, but she couldn't do so.

The paramedics checked her over, they found the slash on her hand, this was pointed out to the DIs, but bandaged over it. They wanted to take her back to the hospital to talk to a psychologist, but Hataya was laughing at that already.

"My cousin has just been murdered before my eyes," she told them, coldly, "I'm distressed, and I am miserable… I'm not insane."

Nix nodded at them to leave. He crouched before her, blocking out the view of their medical examiner checking her cousin's body. "I know it's hard but-"

"Nix was it?" she asked, she had finally managed to calm down. She was now cold, calculating, and focused. She had to be… otherwise she would go insane. He nodded at her, he had seen this reaction before, common amongst academics. "You need for me to answer questions as soon as possible, and I must leave tomorrow morning to alert my family and help to organise the funeral. So I would advise we go back to the station to carry out your statement taking and answer your questions."

"My first question, very quickly, miss James," Nix commented, offering a hand to help Hataya stand, she accepted it, she was somewhat shaky on her feet still.

"Please."

"What is it that you do?"

"Oh… anthropologist, PhD student actually."

"Ah." He was right. Academic. He nodded at her to follow them. She climbed into the back seat of their car, and they drove her back to the station.

Hataya was quiet all the way. She still stared out of the window, her arms wrapped around her body as though she were cold, her clothes still utterly covered in blood. They knew they'd have to take her clothes for evidence, but they were so covered in blood they somehow doubted they would be of any use.

"Jerry," hissed Gilks, "why did you ask what she did?"

"You noticed how as she stopped crying she became more… rational?"

"Yes…"

"I was trying to gage her psychology. Academics tend to try and be less public about their emotions and as soon as possible they will try and be of help. She's probably watched enough cop shows to know about statements, evidence and interrogations of witnesses, and I wouldn't be surprised if she has had to make statements in the past."

"Why did you want to know her psychology?"

"In case she was the serial killer… witnesses have described her as having black hair, bluish brown eyes and copper brown skin tone. Though I doubt she is."

"Your gut?" Gilks teased.

"Partly. Partly the fact that she was crying so much and so hard. Apparently the nine one one call was very hard to decipher unless asked direct questions. I think she's just an unfortunate witness."

Gilks glanced over her shoulder. Hataya had barely moved, her eyes followed the trees or houses on the side of the road as they passed them, but nothing more. This scar was going to hurt for a long time to come.

"I can see that…"

*

They arrived at the police station, gave her a place to change, telling her they'd need her clothes as evidence. She agreed, as they handed her a tracksuit and t-shirt to wear, and paper shoes. They asked if she had anyone to call, she replied that she had friends who she could tall, and gave Sam and Dean's cop names. They were surprised, but tried not to show it. She said she'd call them after they had finished questioning her.

They asked her to say what happened.

Her story was this:

She and her cousin had unexpectedly decided to meet in town. He was drifting through the states at the moment after a bad break up with his fiancée, she had nothing nice to say about his fiancée. They were sharing a room in the motel, as he wasn't planning on staying long. The two had found the motel room too stuffy and decided to go out for a meal with him and Steve and Dan Woods. They had split up after the meal, Steve and Dan went back to the motel, while she and Ché decided to go for a walk. They drove to a parking spot, and Hataya found herself outside the college. She had liked the grounds and decided to show Ché around. As they were walking around the side, they heard a noise in the bushes. Together they walked towards it, and this woman brandishing a knife… a very strange knife that seemed to be attached to her finger, on both hands let out at them. Hataya was nearer, and she slashed at her, getting her hand. Ché pulled her out of the way, trying to get them away, but the woman pulled him to the ground and cut his throat. Hataya tried to get her off, but to no avail. The woman hissed at her, and ran off. She didn't know why. She tried to stop the bleeding and called nine one one.

Gilks found herself believing the story. Nix on the other hand felt it to be a patchwork of truth and lies. But at the same time… he did not feel her to be the killer. When asked about her whereabouts at the times of deaths on the other victims, she gave immediate alibis, without even thinking. A bar, very public and open, and a restaurant, same deal. There was nothing he could hold her on.

They let her go, and she called the 'cousins' to come and pick her up. They arrived in the Impala, unsure of what to do. Once Sam caught sight of Hataya, looking so hopeless and fragile, he sighed, walked over and embraced her. Dean took over the role of being a cop. He called Nix over.

"What's it look like? The same killer?"

"Yeah… probably."

"Look, it wasn't Hataya, I know her, she's-"

"Got air tight alibis for the other murders. Even claims to have been with you two on the night of the first murder."

"She was. She played pool all night, drank quite a bit too." He glanced over to where Sam was rubbing her back, trying to her her to talk, without much success. "We can take her home?"

"Yeah, sure. And she's fine for leaving town too. We've alerted his immediate family, but she wants to let the rest of the family know. Besides, I sincerely doubt a verbal warning is going to stop her from leaving anyway. And I have nothing to hold her on. Even my instincts tell me she's innocent of this." He pursed his lips. "I will say this… watch her tonight, I'd almost say check her into hospital, even for the night, but she doesn't strike me as the type to go along with it. Just keep an eye on her… make sure she doesn't do anything stupid."

"You have my word Nix," he clapped the man on the shoulder, "I hope you catch this bitch, Ché was a good man."

All Nix could do was nod. What else could he say to someone who had just lost a close friend?

Nix watched the New York coppers lead Hataya the PhD student out of the building, and put her in the car. She sat between them in the front. He didn't even bother telling them it was illegal. Just then he didn't even like the idea of her sitting in the back alone.

He sighed, and returned to his office where Gilks waited.

"Now what?" the younger woman asked.

"Now, Fran? Paper work," he yawned, "and it's going to take all night."

*

The three of them arrived back at the motel pretty quickly. It was late, and there were nearly no cars on the roads. Hataya had not spoken a word all the way back. Her eyes were glazed over, and her mouth firmly shut. Even as they arrived back at the motel and she got out of the car, all she seemed to be able to do was fish her key out of the paper bag of her possessions they had been able to give back to her, and walk up the stairs. The brothers followed her and bid her good night, but they could not do much more. She didn't even acknowledge them.

Back in their own rooms, Dean was pacing up and down the room. He was angry. With the world, that creature, that stupid boy… with himself. Had he reacted faster maybe… or if he knew where the heart was… maybe if he had listened to Hataya then… All the what ifs, buts and maybes were coming to mind. He couldn't stop it.

"Dean, go to bed. There's nothing we can do."

"Sure there is!"

"Like what?"

"Like! like… like…" his enthusiasm trailed off.

"Exactly. Just go to sleep."

Dean sat on his brother's bed. "You're not worried about her Sam? Didn't you see her face-"

"Of coarse I'm worried! I'd rather she stayed in here than in there! But she's stubborn… we might make it worse if we demand that someone stays with her."

"What if she…" he trailed off.

Sam shook his head. "She's got a brother, she has an entire family… she's upset and vengeful, I don't think she's suicidal."

Dean grunted and got to his feet, still pacing. Finally his nerves got the better of him. He grabbed her cars keys. "I'm going."

"What?!"

"I'm gonna give her back her keys-"

"We can give them back in the morning."

"I'm going to check on her! This is driving me insane."

"But you-"

"Sammy," he snapped, "I can't leave her alone, not now. Even Nix was telling me she might do something stupid. I'll just talk to her that's it." Before his brother could try and make him see reason again, Dean had walked out his own door and slammed the door shut.

Outside he shivered a little in the cold air. He looked up to the sky, and the memory of Hataya's screams… her howls came to mind. She sounded like a wolf… that raw emotion, all that sadness put into one long sound. That idea of utterly pure emotion… the instinctive reaction… all seemed to link back to their animal roots, and Hataya for a moment had been that very embodiment.

He heaved a sigh. He looked at her door, took a breath and knocked.


	9. Author's Note

Author's note:

I get a lot of hits and visitors to this story, and that's great! However, the fact I have written eight chapters and only gotten 2 reviews is starting to get somewhat frustrating. At the moment I'm stuck on the last couple of chapters, but chapter nine is unfinished at the moment so I can't post it this week. But I am hoping that some more people will tell me what they think of this. I only seem to get reviews if I complain and I don't like that.

Anyway, Easter's coming up, so I hope everyone's looking forewards to their chocolate eggs ^___^

Have fun all!

AC xxx


	10. Saying Good Bye

Chapter 9

Saying Good Bye

There was no answer. He frowned, and knocked harder. Still nothing.

"Hataya?" he called softly into the room, "listen to me, I'm just checking up on you… but I swear to God if you can't answer this door I'm going to kick it in."

There was still no answer. He stood back, ready to carry out his threat. Until he heard the door squeak open, slowly. She had unlocked it, but she hadn't answered it.

He pushed the door open. Inside he found the room in a complete tip… just the way they had left it. All of Ché's books and clothes and things were still spread out about the place, his bag was still left leaning against the wall next to the bathroom. As he breathed in, he could smell the strong smell of smoke that had not been there when it was only Hataya in the room.

He located Hataya sitting at the foot of her bed on the floor, knees pulled up close to her chest, her arms wrapped around her legs and her face buried in her chest. Her shoulders were shaking again but no sound issued from her what so ever.

Dean bit his lip… this was Sam's gig really. He knew how to deal with the open emotional crap. Dean was all action, all go go go! Lets do this! I have a plan! We need to kill these bastards! But this? This scared him shitless… and it was something he did not like dealing with. Something he simply could not deal with.

He had half a mind to double back, and go back to his own room, let Hataya deal with her own problems. Even send Sam into help. Then he looked at her. She looked so small, fragile, as though the slightest breeze could smash her. He had seen her in a t-shirt and underwear and she had no looked this small. He had witnessed her get beaten to a bloody pulp, needing to be carried, stitched up and bandaged and she had not looked this broken.

The two adults had known each other for six days in total, and he got the feeling that very few people had ever seen this woman in such a state in her entire life.

He sighed. The reason Sam refused to go and see her was because he knew all too well that Hataya was strong and proud, he didn't want her to feel a shamed. At the same time, most of the women that Sam was used to comforting were not hunters, and hunters were a different breed of people altogether, that included women. He was not sure how to deal with them. Dean didn't either, he just did not like the idea of Hataya being alone when she was so expressive about her loss. Expressive people were likely to do something stupid.

He locked the door, dropped her keys on the coffee table, and sat beside her. His arms looped round his knees locking his fingers together round the front. He found himself rocking a little, unsure of what to say.

"He… was a good man, Hataya," he said, he could feel the room's temperature spiking and dropping, the lights were off, but had they been on he doubted they would have lasted very long. This empath was feeling strongly, but trying her best not to let it effect the outside world.

She didn't answer, her shoulder's shook, and the temperature shot up, then dropped again.

"Ché knew this job, Hataya, he knew the risks-"

"This wasn't meant to be a dangerous job," her voice was thick, muffled, "this was meant to be straight forewords… done in an hour… no more deaths…"

Dean sighed again, this time he put an arm around her shoulder. "He didn't exactly want you do die in the process! You know that."

"That doesn't make me feel any better," the anger had set in, all of a sudden there seemed to be a new electricity in the air.

He could feel the pressure of her emotions imposing on his mind, but with no real understanding behind them to do any damage. It was the fact that he could feel the emotion physically that almost frightened him. It wouldn't be long until she found out what she could do… and just then it may have been too dangerous.

"You're new to this, Hataya, so you should learn this-"

Almost as though she had teleportation she was on her feet glaring down at him, her eyes seemed to be smouldering with a literal fire. "And what? I'm supposed to just accept Ché's death just like that? I'm supposed to just move on and do my next job like nothing's happened? He was my damn family, Dean! He was family! He died to protect me! How am I supposed to live knowing that my family had to die-"

"Believe me I know that feeling!" Dean found himself shouting back at her, on his feet squaring up to her. He had no qualms with squaring up to women in his own field of work.

She stopped in her tracks. "What?" she hissed.

"My dad died to save my ass," he snarled.

The electricity seemed to calm down all of a sudden. Hataya's stance relaxed. He could almost visibly see the reminder of John Winchester's demise taking it's toll on her.

"Oh God…" she murmured, her voice beginning to break, "Ché… John… Jessica… your mother… why is it all the good people die early?" There was a pause, she sat back on the floor quite suddenly. "What's the fucking point?"

"The point is there are still good people out there."

"That's Sam's philosophy, not yours."

"All right- the point is there is evil shit out there that needs to be dealt with. Killing, possessing, it's shit. We can't have what's happened in our family happen to other people… right?"

For a moment she didn't answer. She just looked at him. Then "Dean… I don't care."

"What?"

"I don't care… we work are arses off, we get ripped to shreds, the people we love die… and what do we have to show for it? I don't care."

"No… no that's not true and you know it," he sat beside her. He could see what Nix meant, Hataya was loosing faith in something she was good at. She was loosing faith with the world entirely. If she lost everything because of this, then the Spearfinger would have taken another victim with her.

Closer to her, he could study her properly. He almost moved away from her. There was a reason why there was no more reaction in the room, no more pressure against his emotions… her eyes were blank, utterly soulless. As though there was nothing inside her. That was another thing he had learned… empaths seemed to usually be moderate people… which was why their powers were the least dangerous. Hataya was volatile, in every sense of the word. And this was the perfect example of this, she had lost someone close to her and she had almost reverted to the living dead because of it.

Which was why he was so taken by surprise when she moved towards him, her fingers slid up his chest to his face. He frowned, not quite sure of what was happening, then felt her lips touch his and kiss him gently. He found himself responding, without quite knowing why. He felt the pressure in the kiss deepen, and his rationality stepped in.

He stopped the kiss, looking away, firmly pushing her shoulders away from him shaking his head. "No way, I'm not playing this game."

"Dean please-"

"No."

"Please! I need to do something! I need something to stop me feel so… so fucking empty. I'm begging you! Help me-"

He looked at her, taking her hands in his. "I've got to be honest with you. Any other time, I would have jumped at the chance. I'd have tried to take you in a flash. But I am not low enough to fuck a girl when she's already down. There is no way I'm taking advantage of you when you're depressed." He tried a grin, it was a pathetic sad smile that showed instead. "I'm… I'm not that desperate."

"Dean come on-"

"No way. You'll wake up in the morning, regretting it entirely, you'll hate me for letting you do such a thing and you'll leave and never see me or Sam again. And you'll probably kill me to just to make sure we know it."

"How do you know I won't do that anyway."

"Because we work well together." He paused. "The four of us worked well."

Hataya's face fell, her eyes filled again. This time the electricity made no change, but Dean could once again feel the pressure of her emotions against his own, she was almost imposing it on him… but not quite. The very fact that he was consciously stopping her from being able to do so made a difference.

"Please don't cry," he begged, "I'm not good with crying women."

"I- I can't help it," she stammered, "Dean… I- I- Oh Christ I'm going to miss him!" The tears were back.

This time Dean didn't think twice. He wasn't going to have sex with her on principle, strangely, it felt wrong. Strange for him. That didn't mean that the concept of human contact wasn't important. He pulled her close holding onto her, letting her grab hold of the front of his shirt, crying into it, hiding her face. He held her close, not knowing what to say. So he didn't say anything.

He suddenly wished he had Sam's sentimentality to be able to help the poor woman, but at the same time he somehow doubted sentimentality was quite what she needed.

He stood with her moved her around the bed and sat her down. He let go of her to remove her shoes and socks. Then, with great restraint, he helped her pull of her police issue track pants. She needed to be comfortable to sleep. He moved away to kick off his own shoes, only to feel Hataya holding onto his hand. He squeezed her fingers, and pulled off the shoes, before climbing into the bed with her, and pulling her into another embrace. It was all he could do.

As she rambled, about how the two of them had grown up together, how even as children Ché could try to protect her… how Ché was like a big brother and Akando her own brother was more like a child most of the time… Most of it didn't make sense, and Dean wasn't really listening, it simply seemed to be therapeutic for Hataya to say it aloud, when someone could hear her. As for Dean, his memory cast back to when he and Ché had sat in that car together, the day after Hataya had been attacked by the Spearfinger.

*

Dean nodded heavily. "Look man, it'll be fine. She's new, she's curious and she's strong. She has what it takes to survive this life style. And more besides."

Ché laughed. "About that… Dean, I need you to do me a favour."

Dean looked at him, almost worriedly.

"Tonight… I know there is no way in Hell I'm gonna be able to talk her out of not coming with us… and… let's say I just have a bad feeling about tonight. I guess I'm talking two favours here."

"I can guess the first," Dean replied confidently, "what ever happens, her safety comes first? She'll kill us both if she found that out."

"Yeah…" his smile didn't quite reach his eyes, "the second is more important. It goes entirely against what our family does, but I spoke to the elders last night, and they agree with me. She's on the road a lot, and she clearly likes you and your brother… she's had contact with your family in the past."

"Spit it out, man."

"All right! Look, we just need her to know what she can do, soon. Her brother doesn't know it, and she doesn't talk to our family for months. And if she's left in the dark any more, she could end up killing herself, or someone else. And you know about empaths. If I survive the night, I'll tell her tomorrow. If I don't…"

Dean became uncomfortable. "Do you know something-"

"Promise me, man."

"Why me?"

"She trusts you and Sam. Might be because she knew your father… I dunno… but she trusts you. I can see it."

"All right…" he didn't like this in the slightest. "I promise. But why?"

He shrugged, smirking, "you never know, you know. Seems like a fairly simple monster job… but you never know what's gonna getcha. And I just like the idea of someone from outside of our family that can help her."

"Jeez, I feel like I'm a witness to your will or something."

Ché just laughed, shaking his head. "C'mon, let's go."

"Where?"

"Here's our best bet- but I think Hataya was right, we won't find much during the day."

*

Now that Dean thought about it, there was something strange about Ché's sudden desire for another to know to be able to tell Hataya, explain her abilities, explain her inheritance. And why from outside the family? She was welcome, they had seen her have contact with them. Was there something going on…

He looked down at Hataya. She had fallen into a fitful sleep. She still clung to him, tears were still issuing from her closed eyes. He grunted to himself, and rested his chin on her head, thinking. He got the feeling that something was about to go down in her world, and it wasn't necessarily going to help with the loss of her beloved cousin.

He resolved then and there that in the morning he would tell her about empathic abilities, and talk to Sam about having her join them, even for a little while. She'd be safer that way, and she'd still be able to do her research. That's what Ché had in mind after all… she could still do what she loved, and she'd have people to back her up instead of working entirely solo.

With these thoughts, he wasn't even aware of himself nodding off to sleep himself.

It had been a long hard day. And the next day was not exactly going to be any easier.

*

Dean woke the next morning with the sun having risen. He squinted looking around sleepily. Then frowned. This wasn't his… of coarse… he'd slept in Hataya's room, keep her company through the night.

He sat up. He was alone, he frowned. That didn't make any sense. Oh… she'd gone to the bathroom, that was it.

He pulled himself to his feet and knocked on the door of the en suite. The door creaked open. It was empty, the lights were out. And it had been cleared out of all signs of anyone having been there. He turned and looked at the rest of the room. It was clean, entirely tidied up. Even the room key was on the table.

Dean's first thoughts were morbid. He grabbed the key and ran outside, trying to locate her car. The little grey Austin was gone. Shit. He dashed off to the reception, and grabbed hold of the the person manning the desk.

"The woman in this room," he showed the key, but didn't let it go, "did you see her?"

"Uh… miss… Hataya James?"

"Yes yes! Short, black hair, light tanned skin, covered in tats."

"I remember… yes she paid up two days early, said something about a funeral. Is everything-"

He snatched the key back, and left. Not only because he had left his shoes in his room.

He reached their floor again, and hammered on his and Sam's room's door.

"Sam! Sammy! We might have a-"

"In here," called Sam's voice, from inside Hataya's room.

"How'd you get in there?" he asked, standing in the door way.

"You left the door open when you went running off towards the entrance. Checking to see what happened to Hataya?" Sam looked so calm. That was unusual for someone who was generally more emotional than himself.

"What? Yes! After-"

Sam waved a piece of paper at him. "If you hadn't jumped to conclusions, you would have noticed that she left a note."

"Really?"

Sam handed it to him rolling his eyes. "Grab your shoes, and pack up. We're getting out of here, I think we'd better head back to Nebraska before we move on. And have a word with that kid from last night, the mechanic."

"Yeah yeah…" Dean turned his attention to the note.

'Hey guys, needed to leave quickly, haven't committed suicide, promise, see you round. Hataya x'

It was very brief, very much to the point. Not really much considering how much time they had spent together in that less than a week, and how much they had worked together. Wasn't much of a good bye.

He sighed and shrugged, throwing the note in the trash can as he picked up his shoes. The note itself had been written on a piece of scrap paper. He shrugged and looked around the room. Strange… just yesterday it had been teaming with life. Today… nothing. Such as life. As far as their life was concerned.

"Hey Sam!" he called, dropping the key on the table and shutting the door behind him as he walked out, "do you even remember where that place was?"

"Yeah it was the first place we stopped at when we got here."

"Oh yeah… and how do we get there?"

"I'm driving."

"What- no way!"

*

They arrived at the garage little over an hour after that. They had packed up, paid up, left, gotten lost and eventually found themselves where they had first dropped off Hataya, expecting to have never seen her again. Until Sam decided to get suspicious of her.

They pulled up outside, and climbed out of the car. Ollie recognised them immediately. He called over to his father, asking for a short break. His father looked over at Sam and Dean and nodded. Ollie jogged over, wiping his oily hands.

"Hey…" he started nervously, "uh… what happened last-"

"He died," Dean snapped at him.

"Oh… shit… and Hat-"

"She's gone. She left town already. Needed to make arrangements for his funeral."

Ollie's face fell. He ran his hand through his hair nervously, unable to look at either of them. He knew it was his fault… but he had yet to admit it to himself, let alone anyone else. He was glad Hataya had left, he wasn't sure he could have faced her, though he doubted she would have out right blamed him. Not like her friend had done.

Sam glanced at his brother, then spoke up. "About last night… I think it's best you destroy any evidence you have… forget that it ever happened. Go back to living your normal life."

Ollie hesitated. Like he was unsure of what to say. Finally he came out with, "actually, I've had my suspicions about this sort of world for a while."

"That's just everyday paranoia," snapped Dean.

"No no… it's not… it's like… it started over a year ago… just little things at first… but… then I realised I could move things… just by thinking about it. Then… it got more and more powerful, I could move bigger things, control them for longer…"

"You've got telekinesis?!" Dean was stunned. Just after finding Andy? How many of these bastards were there! Though… he could not help but appreciate the irony… Sam believing for so long that it was Hataya… when all that time there had been someone in the town all along who had been just that.

"How old are you?" asked Sam, slowly.

"Twenty three. Why?"

The brother looked at each other. Right age… right time span.

"Where's your mother?"

"Died… ten years ago… cancer…" he was looking worried, "what's this about?"

"It breaks the trend… but I'm guessing that with Andy and his brother, it doesn't always work like that."

Dean nodded. "There haven't been any other murders until the Spearfinger turned up. Looks like this one might be one of the good guys…" he looked at him, studied him. "You're an idiot," he stated, "complete damn moron… but you're not a killer."

"What?! What's this about?"

"We're not sure," sighed Sam, "but from what you saw last night, I'm sure we don't need to give you the lecture-"

"About what goes bump in the night being real," expanded Dean.

"So… I just think it's leads to something big. I have the same thing, we're about the same age, mine's premonition. Just… keep your head down, and don't do anything stupid with it."

"Or else?"

"We'll be back, and we'll get you," snarled Dean, "so be a good boy."

"Y- yes sir," the younger man stammered. Dean could be intimidating if he really felt like it.

The two brothers left. Ollie was left standing, not sure if he should be scared, worried or just calm. If he kept his head down, then he'd be safe. Like they promised. But his own curiosity had been ignited. What was really out there? He had never really liked school… still… maybe it was time to do research.

*

It was late by the time the Winchester brothers found their back to Nebraska, back to the Roadhouse. Inside was just as busy as ever. Again they were surrounded by the smell of smoke, gun powder, sweat and alcohol. The hunters as usual were swapping stories, sorting their weapons, exchanging ideas.

The two brothers made their way to the bar, immediately greeted warmly by Ellen.

"Hello boys, wasn't expecting you here. I thought you were off to DC."

"There was nothing fishy going on there… we figured this would be the best way to gather intel," shrugged Sam.

"You have good logic," agreed Ellen. She smiled at him.

"Aren't you going to ask about the last job?" asked Dean.

"No need, already seen Hataya- oh speaking of which," Ellen walked back to the back room, leaving the Winchesters looking somewhat confused. They looked at each other, shrugging. Ellen returned holding two chilled bottles and a piece of paper. "She left this for you, and got you these, for the next time you dropped in."

Sam took the piece of paper and scanned it. This time it was a letter not a note.

"She had a hard time writing that you know, sat up in the corner," she pointed to where the pool table was, "rewrote it three times."

Dean glanced over to the pool area. He couldn't help but imagine Hataya with he feet up against the side of the table, pen and paper in hand, trying to figure out what to say. He was aware he was probably making it more romantic than it was, still… imagination was allowed to be unrealistic.

Sam handed the letter to Dean and took his beer and started drinking it.

He scanned through it himself:

'Dear boys

'Now I'm not sure how much you two talk, so there are somethings I want to clear up first. Only little things really… Sam, I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but I knew your father. Ask Dean the rest of it, I told him after our first round with Utlunta. And Dean, the only reason I didn't shoot first time round was because she looked to human. And to the both of you… despite common opinion, I am aware of what I can do. I think it's called empathic abilities. I really figured it out the night I was beaten by the witch… so on the way out of there I made some phone calls to some friends, figured it out myself. I'm not sure what I'm going to do with this new found knowledge, but I'm sure it'll come in handy. I know you boys picked up on it fairly quickly, and thanks for respected my family's wishes and not telling me, I know it would have been easier.

'I also want to thank you for helping me out… I know I'm a newbie, I know I messed up, and I'm glad you two stuck around. I'm sure Ché would have said the same things. As soon as I know more details I'll SMS you the when and where about his funeral if you want to attend, if you can that is. I know how hard life can be.

'And sorry I pissed off so early. I wanted to say good bye, but I suck at good byes. I go all weird. Hell I'm writing to you I'm so bad at them. Still I prefer a letter to an e-mail any day.

'Thank you both, and see you soon

'Hataya James

'PS- Dean, I think you were right.'

Dean couldn't help but grin to himself at the last comment. They had never allied themselves with anyone before. And he doubted any of the other hunters would treat them like she treated did. It was likely to have come from her empathic abilities, her high emotion and the loss combined, he was still glad there had been a bond created.

He picked up his beer and looked at Sam. "To Ché."

"To Ché," agreed his brother.

They clinked their bottles, and tipped back their drink. Ellen looked at them, and grinned.

"She's a strange one that one," she told them, "leaving letters and shit. But to be honest with you boys, she's a good ally to have. Especially in this climate."

"We found out first hand," agreed Sam, smiling.

Dean merely nodded, concentrating more on the job in hand- drinking his beer.

Ellen chuckled to herself and turned her attention to Ash who was irritating someone with his pool playing style. Though the back of her mind cast back to Hataya herself.


	11. Saying Hello

A/N: It took a while but it is complete! The reason it took so long is on my profile, and I apologise to any readers I may still have!

Chapter 10

Saying Hello

Hataya had woken hours before Dean. The sun was just beginning to rise as she forced her eyes apart. The sleep had been blissful, dreamless. Now awake all the memories of the night before washed over her. She had expected to burst into tears again. Nothing happened. She rubbed her eyes, pushing the sleep from them, and the tears that had dried in her lashes away. She sat up, finding eyeliner all over her hands. Still nothing… she was still miserable, she was still at a loss… but there were no more tears to come.

Her mind cast back over all the memories she could of Ché, and all but a few were good. The arguments, fights, hunts, discussions, exploring, growing up… all of it. It didn't make her cry. She was sad of coarse, and she knew apart of her had gone with Ché when he had left her. At the same time, she knew all too well that if Ché was to come back as a ghost, he would haunt her forever if she did not pull herself together and get back on track. There was no point in living in depression, she knew that from experience. But it was Ché who had pointed that out to her in the first place.

Finally, she smiled. Her cousin had left the world physically for ever. She was aware of that, that did not mean she had lost all connection with him. And she was at peace with that.

She heaved a sigh and looked at Dean. She was grateful towards him as well, she had said some stupid things that night, all because of her extreme emotion, she could feel the temperature rising and falling because of her emotions, and her lack of control over her ability. In his sleep she could see him frowning, almost in pain… almost angrily. She pressed her fingers to his forehead, concentrated, and did what had come to her so naturally before… calmed him down. This time, because of what she knew about herself, there was no longer any pain.

She climbed out of bed slowly, and covered him up again. She didn't want to wake him. Quickly she tided up, collected everything she could together and proceeded to have a shower. Dressed and ready within ten minutes, she had been awake for half an hour and the sun was still rising. She gathered what she could up, and opened the door to let herself out. It took her two trips to load up both her's and Ché's belongings. Not surprising really.

She returned to the room and looked around. There was nothing of her's left. She glanced over at Dean, and promptly decided it was best to let him sleep, she wouldn't wake him or Sam. Instead, she grabbed a pen and a scrap piece of paper that had fallen from her note book (there was a reference number to a book on the back), and made a quick note of good bye, left the key on the table and walked out to sign out with the receptionist and continue back to Nebraska to meet with her brother.

As she completed her task, she looked up at the motel room. The day was brighter, she still wasn't sure of the time.

Not that it really mattered anyway. Instead she climbed into her car, turned the ignition and moved away. It didn't take her long and she was back on the road. It was still too early for there to be too many cars. Keeping her eyes on the road she pulled out her battered cigarette packet. She smiled as she looked at it, then returned her attention back to not crashing.

As she pulled out her penultimate cigarette with her teeth, settled it between her lips and lit up. She couldn't help but think, "here's to you, Ché." After all, it had been with Ché that she had tried her first cigarette. Now every time she felt the need for nicotine, she would do so with her cousin in her mind.

That was a comforting thought, he was truly with her always.

She wound down the window, resting an arm on open gap, feeling the wind through her hair, across her skin, making her eyes water a little with the dust particles in the air.

Back on the road. Back to finding trouble. Between jobs. The time between taking notes of her work. Of the creatures she fought, always talking hypothetically, in terms of the belief of different cultures, never fact. That time she always felt the most free. She could go anywhere, be anyone when she got there, just if she felt like it.

At the same time, just then, she wanted nothing more than the loving embrace of family, friends and the familiar. Hence why she was so glad to be going to the Roadhouse, just as a stop off, just for a while.

After a while, she made up her mind. She was fully aware of what she could do, and now she was going to call family to confirm it. It took time, the conversations were short. The reactions were all the same "How do you know? Oh… well it's about time you knew anyway! I told your mother-" and so on. But it was good to know she wasn't imagining things or being paranoid.

Content that she had gained some knowledge, that it wasn't that strange in her family and it had a name, she turned off her phone. She didn't want to be contacted, not for a while anyway. So she drove, faster than she was meant to, and just enjoyed that feeling of freedom as she dodged the cars on the road that were becoming more and more frequent. Vaguely feeling pity for those who it was an event to go on a road trip.

Soon she arrived at the Roadhouse. Had she been sticking to the speed limits and taking breaks to eat, it would have taken her much longer, but she was focused, and for once, it seemed, lucky. It was too early for other patrons to turn up, but it was nearly time.

She parked, grabbed her bag and a side arm before entering the building.

Inside was empty, apparently anyway.

"Hello!" she called, loudly, "Ellen I need a drink!"

There was the sound of steps, and Ellen appeared coming up from the basement holding a box of bottled beer. Hataya, put her bag down and leapt over the counter to take it from her. She had been there enough times to know where to put it.

After which Ellen pulled her into a hug.

"What have you done to your uncles?" she asked, after pressing a kiss to younger girl's forehead.

"I uh…" she grinned, "admitted I was aware of what I can do. I don't think they're happy, but I figure it's probably better I know, that way I can keep track of it."

"That's what I told them." Ellen shrugged, "but they won't listen to me. I do have a strong willed daughter too." She studied her, then frowned. "What happened?"

Hataya heaved a sigh. "Can I please have a drink first?" she begged.

Ellen looked surprised, Hataya could take her drink, but she didn't often want one so early. So she poured her a bourbon, and handed it to her. The young woman sipped at it, slowly, gathering her thoughts. It was as though she were trying to figure out how to tell Ellen something awful in the best possible way.

Finally she seemed to decide that there was only saying it. Even if saying it was hard.

"Chevayo…"she started, slowly, "he's…" she swallowed. Ellen's breath was held, she didn't dare interrupt her. "Ché is dead," she said finally.

The long held gasp was expelled from Ellen's throat. The girl finished her drink in one gulp, the power of the alcohol making her eyes water.

"What… how…" stammered Ellen. Ché had grown up as a hunter, it was in his blood and he was good. He seemed more than immoral, he seemed unbeatable! But this? This felt worse than impossible. Ellen could feel her gut twisting in her belly and her heart clenching in her chest. She knew how close the cousins were, and her own feelings were in turmoil, she wasn't quite sure how to react.

"He was saving me, from the utlunta," Hataya explained, "some idiot was trying to get a picture of her, I tried to distract it from him… and…" She didn't have to go on. Ellen could guess the rest. There was something broken behind there girl's eyes and it was going to take a long time for it to be fixed. At the same time, that fierce spirit still burned just as brightly.

"He loved you," was all Ellen could choke out. Hataya took hold of her hands and a feeling of peace, acceptance and serenity swept over her, like she had never felt before. She looked at Hataya in shock, the girl just smiled back. It was like she had done it without thinking. "I hope that's all you'll do with your ability."

"Only on special occasions," Hataya winked. She heaved a breath, "though it does make me tired." She paused. "Hey can I have a piece of paper? I need to write to the guys. I sort of left them suddenly. I left them like a… five word note as a good bye, I feel a bit bad about that."

Ellen grinned, "I'll get it for you."

For the next hour or so, Hataya nursed another bourbon as she put her feet up against the pool table, rocking back a little on her chair, chewing the end of her pen. She went through three different versions of the same thing before she settled on one she liked. She beamed as she folded it, and put their names on it.

She headed over to the bar, dodging around the patrons of the roadhouse, hunters she did and didn't recognise. At this point the news of their fallen comrade had spread. Even if they didn't know him personally or had never even heard of him they all raised a glass to him and his memory. There was solidarity in their community, protection of the human race and one another.

She caught Ellen's attention, and handed over the letter with some money. "When you see them next, give them the letter and a beer each on me. I owe them more than that, but you know what it's like." She shrugged as Ellen took them from her.

"Yeah yeah. I'll let them know."

As Hataya ordered another bourbon, she felt a tap on her shoulder, she turned round and came face to face with a tall, slender, copper complexioned, black haired young man, with eyes and bone structure disquieteningly similar to hers. She smiled and jumped into the arms of her little brother Akando.

"I wish I had been there," he whispered in her ear, she could feel his tears on her ear as he held her close.

"I'm glad you weren't," she replied, "I really am."

They pulled apart, and she pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Beer right?"

"Whiskey… that was Ché's drink," he replied.

Ellen was already there with the glasses for them both and one for herself. They took their respective glasses, and raised them. Their toast was silent, but unanimous. They drank their shots, then Ellen was rushed away to serve others.

The twins moved away from the bar and hijacked a table and talked.

They had to decide what to do next. But first she had to ask.

"I've told you about this for years," she said quietly, "what changed your mind."

"Research. Talking to people. Ché." He shrugged. "Things just started to fall into place. Particularly you as a child."

"You calling me weird?" she demanded.

He just smiled at her. "What's our next move?"

"What do you mean our?"

He sat back. "I'm joining you."

"You- you what?"

"Not for ever, just for a while. I have my gut feeling again. Like you need help, or… or something big is happening, I'm not sure which. But I just think I need to be here, with you, just to make sure."

She could sense fear, worry and confusion in her brother, she was pretty certain he was telling the truth. At the same time she wandered if he just wanted to make sure she was all there. Not that she minded the company.

"All right," she nodded, "what's our next move?"

They discussed rumors, evidence and when the funeral was going to happen. The spoke later and later, deciding to make their way back to the home ground slowly, try and get there in time.

Eventually the two rose, and left quietly. Ellen looked up just in time to see Hataya's tattooed arm slip round the door behind her. The woman had a secret motherly smile on her face. The two would be back soon and it would be good to see how they developed again.

It was only a few hours later that the Winchester boys stepped in through the door that their new found friend had left through.

Meanwhile the James twins had settled into her grey Austin, Akando was driving, Hataya was dozing. He was shaking a little. Now he believed, now he knew, he couldn't believe what sort of things his sister had done in the face of that sort of danger. How often her neck was on the line. And he didn't even want to imagine what it had been like for her to have seen their cousin died.

"You know, Akando," she had slipped back into their Cherokee dialect, "I'm glad you're with me."

"I'm glad I'm here too," he told her, "by the way… do you have any idea what I went through trying to find that fucking roadhouse?"

Hataya turned to look at her brother, his face was only vaguely lit up by the cars head lights reflecting back, so it highlighted his bone structure, making him look somewhat ghostly, but with a childish pout, and a frown between his brows as he concentrated in the dark. She burst into giggles.

It was good to travel with family.


End file.
